WHY.  .OF  CALIF.  LIBRARY,  LOS  ANGELES 

The  Personal 
Conduct  of  Belinda 


BOOKS    BY 
ELEANOR   HOYT    BRAINERD 


Bettina,  Concerning  Belinda,  The  Misde- 

meanors of  Nancy,  Nancy's 

Country  Christmas 


"  Not  bad  —  not  at  all  bad,"  she  said  genially 


The   Personal 
Conduct   of  Belinda 

By 

Eleanor  Hoyt  Brainerd 


Illustrated  by  George  Brehm 


New  York 

Doubleday,  Page  &  Company 
1910 


ALL  RIGHTS   RESERVED,   INCLUDING  THAT   OF  TRANSLATION 
INTO  FOREIGN  LANGUAGES     INCLUDING  THE  SCANDINAVIAN 

COPYRIGHT,    IQOQ,    IQIO,  BY  THE  CURTIS  PUBLISHING   COMPANY 

COPYRIGHT,  IQIO,  BY   DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  COMPANY 

PUBLISHED,  MARCH,   IQIO 


CONTENTS 


I.     Belinda  Pledges  Herself  to  an  Adventure       .  3 

II.     Spring  Witchery 12 

III.     The  Unpleasant  Old  Party  Surprises  His  Aunt         25 

IV.     An  Agreeable  Frenchman  Disarranges   Cer- 
tain Well-laid  Plans 47 

V.     A  Temporary  Truce  and   the  Solving  of  a 

Riddle 74 

VI.     A  Blunder  and  a  Breakfast        ....       102 

VII.     Jack  Courtney  Insists  upon  Showing  Amelia 

the  Festive  Side  of  London  ....       120 

VIII.     A  Live  Earl  at  the  Wheel          ....       140 
IX.     Jacobites  All! 161 

X.     Lord  Bantholme  Disproves  the  Theory  That 

Englishmen  Are  Slow 175 

XI.     The  Care  we  Party  Dodges  156  Pages  of  Sights 

and  Is  Proud  of  It 197 

v 


2125867 


vi  Contents 


XII.     A  Rendezvous  in  Touraine        ....  220 

XIII.  Brittany  Does  Her  Best  for  a  Lover,  but  Laura 

May  Blocks  the  Game 236 

XIV.  Jack  Courtney  Develops  an  Unsuspected  Pas- 

sion for  Art 264 

XV.     An  Elopement  Clears  the  Air    ....  285 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

"Not  bad  — not  at  all  bad,"  she  said  genially   Frontispiece 

FACING  PAGE 

There  they  came  —  the  braw  laddies  .  .  .  172 
The  chateau  country  is  the  original  motor  paradise  206 
They  saw  her  at  Armenonville  .  .  .  .274 

The  steamer  docked  at  New  York  on  the  morning 

of  September  15th 304 


The  Personal 
Conduct  of  Belinda 


The  Personal 
Conduct  of  Belinda 

CHAPTER  ONE 

BELINDA   PLEDGES   HERSELF  TO   AN  ADVENTUBE 

"Do  TAKE  the  thing  seriously,  Belinda." 

The  youngest  teacher,  perched  on  the  window-sill 
in  a  fashion  which  the  head  of  the  school  would  have 
characterized  as  "unseemly,"  eyed  her  companion  with 
a  look  in  which  affection  and  exasperation  struggled 
together. 

"Take  it  seriously!  Why,  Margaret  Barnes,  I'm 
taking  it  tragically!  It's  the  most  supremely  horrid 
thing  that  ever  happened.  I  can't  tell  you  how  I  feel 
about  it.  Words  fail  me.  No;  you  needn't  smile. 
Adequate  words  do  fail  me.  Of  course,  I  still  have  a  poor, 
weak,  dribbling  little  vocabulary  to  draw  upon;  but, 
as  for  fine,  rotund  words  that  would  do  credit  to  a  teacher 
of  English  —  they've  all  been  shocked  out  of  me." 

"You  could  manage  the  trip  perfectly  without  me," 
said  Miss  Barnes. 

9 


4    THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

This  was  the  third  time  she  had  made  that  assertion; 
and,  for  the  third  time,  the  girl  on  the  window-sill  broke 
into  violent  and  fluent  protest. 

"Not  for  five  minutes!  Not  for  the  hundredth  part 
of  a  second !  You  know  perfectly  well  that  I  couldn't.  I 
don't  know  a  sixpence  from  a  gulden.  I  don't  recognize 
my  own  steamer  trunk  when  I  meet  it  face  to  face.  I'm 
mere  putty  in  the  hands  of  a  cabman.  I  wouldn't  dare 
give  a  head  waiter  less  than  a  dollar.  As  for  railroad 
tickets  —  heaven  knows  where  I'd  buy  them  for,  if  I 
had  to  do  it  in  any  language  except  English.  We'd 
probably  bring  up  in  the  Forbidden  City.  Isn't  that  an 
alluring  name,  Margaret?" 

Miss  Barnes  laughed  —  the  rare  laugh  which  softened 
the  grave  face  to  a  certain  surprising  girlishness  and 
with  which  no  one  in  the  school  save  the  inconsequent 
young  person  in  the  window  was  familiar  —  but,  having 
laughed,  she  returned  to  the  charge. 

"It  would  be  such  a  shame  to  give  up  the  scheme.  7 
didn't  know  anything  about  foreign  travel  when  we  took 
our  first  party  abroad,  but  you  know  I  got  along  all  right." 

"Yes,  of  course;  but  you're  a  teacher  of  mathematics. 
I'm  only  a  teacher  of  literature  and  history.  You  can 
add  and  subtract  and  multiply.  I  suppose  at  a  pinch 
you  could  even  do  fractions;  but  being  able  to  repeat  the 
names  of  the  English  kings  backward  wouldn't  be  a 
blessed  bit  of  help  to  me  if  I  should  get  into  a  row  with  a 


PLEDGES  HERSELF  TO  AN  ADVENTURE    5 

cabman  over  his  fare.  No,  my  dear.  The  thing  simply 
can't  be  done.  I'm  a  broken  reed.  The  whole  party 
would  know  within  twenty-four  hours  that  I  was  a  whited 
sepulchre.  What's  the  use  of  being  a  teacher  of  English 
if  you  can't  mix  your  metaphors  to  taste  ?  European  tour! 
Why,  I  couldn't  manage  a  straw  ride  in  Beecher's 
Corners!" 

"  Nonsense !    Any  intelligent  person  can  handle  a " 

"But  I'm  not  an  intelligent  person,"  Belinda  inter- 
rupted earnestly.  "I  can  bring  any  number  of  reliable 
witnesses  who  will  swear  to  that.  I'm  well-meaning. 
I'm  even  ornamental  in  a  humble,  Rogers  group  sort  of 
way,  but  in  the  practical  issues  of  life  I'm  a  blithering 
idiot." 

Miss  Barnes  was  unmoved. 

"You  can  manage  my  end  of  the  proposition  much 
more  easily  than  I  could  manage  yours,"  she  urged  in 
persuasive  tones. 

"Any  woman  who  can  distribute  fees  and  understand 
a  railway  guide " 

"Hear  her  speak  of  a  foreign  railway  guide  as  if  any 
woman  ever  could  understand  it!"  Belinda  murmured 
confidentially  to  a  Botticelli  Madonna  who  smiled  with 
soft  vagueness  from  a  shadowy  corner  of  the  room. 

"Now  you  and  Botticelli  understood  that  women  were 
never  intended  to  figure  out  what  train  leaving  London 
in  the  morning  would  give  one  time  to  see  Winchester 


6    THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

and  Salisbury  Plain  and  dine  at  Southampton  and  catch 
the  night  boat  for  Havre.  You'd  never  have  looked 
as  serene  as  you  do  if  you'd  been  brought  up  on  time- 
tables, Madonna  Mia." 

"As  I  was  saying,"  continued  Miss  Barnes  patiently 
(she  was  used  to  Belinda's  digressions),  "any  one  who 
has  the  money  to  buy  information  and  comfort  can  man- 
age the  business  end  of  a  European  tour;  but  when 
it  conies  to  keeping  the  members  of  the  party  from  grum- 
bling and  growling  and  quarrelling  and  hating  each  other 
—  that  calls  for  genius." 

"And  that's  me  ?"  inquired  the  teacher  of  English,  with 
a  fine  disregard  for  the  rules  of  grammar. 

"That's  emphatically  you.  You  can  make  any  man, 
woman  or  child  adore  you  and  believe  black  is  white  if 
you  say  it  is." 

"Oh,  as  for  the  men "  assented  Belinda  airily. 

"  Well,  here  you  have  a  party  of  eight  —  all  pleasant 
and  willing  to  pay  well.  You've  been  over  most  of  the 
ground  before  and  I'll  figure  out  the  whole  itinerary  for 
you  and  write  it  down.  You  can  make  money  out  of 
the  trip  and  I  do  so  hate  to  think  tffat  the  whole  plan  is 
upset  and  every  one's  pleasure  spoiled  on  my  account.  If 
it  were  anything  else,  I  wouldn't  fail  you;  but  the  doctors 
were  so  positive,  and  one  has  only  one  mother,  and " 

The  low,  clear  voice  broke  suddenly,  and  the  younger 
teacher  slipped  down  from  her  seat,  crossed  the  room 


PLEDGES  HERSELF  TO  AN  ADVENTURE    7 

swiftly  and  laid  a  gentle  hand  upon  the  shoulder  of  the 
woman  in  the  big  wicker  chair. 

"Don't,  Margaret.  Don't  look  like  that.  You'll 
pull  her  through.  You're  bound  to,  if  you'll  only  believe 
you  can.  The  doctors  said  that  the  change  to  the  mount- 
ains would  give  her  a  splendid  chance.  And  don't  you 
worry  for  a  moment  about  those  eight  yearning  pilgrims. 
I'll  take  them  to  Europe.  I'll  cram  them  full  of  misin- 
formation and  table  d'hote  dinners.  I  won't  spare  them 
an  historic  cobblestone  or  a  prehistoric  chicken.  I'll  drag 
them  through  every  gallery  and  cathedral  in  Great 
Britain  and  on  the  continent  and  when  they're  utterly 
exhausted,  I'll  abandon  them  on  the  Russian  steppes  and 
elope  with  a  Cossack.  I  believe  I'd  rather  like  a  Cossack, 
Margaret." 

The  tender  sympathy  had  given  way  to  raillery,  but 
the  older  woman  understood.  It  was  because  each  in 
her  own  way  shut  the  door  upon  her  emotions,  that 
the  two  were  friends.  Miss  Barnes  brushed  with  her 
cool,  slim  fingers  the  little  hand  that  still  rested  on 
her  shoulder.  From  her,  the  caress  was  eloquent,  but 
all  she  said  was: 

"You  will  go?" 

"I  will  go.  Didn't  I  map  out  my  programme  for  you  ? 
Those  misguided  creatures  shall  tour  so  long  as  the 
money  holds  out.  The  trip  will  probably  be  brief.  Then 
enter  Cossack.  Exit  defaulting  conductor  at  a  hand 


8    THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

gallop.  Our  consul  can  send  the  party  home.  What  do 
we  raise  consuls  for?" 

"You  won't  change  your  mind  ?" 

"Margaret  Barnes,  I  have  put  my  hand  to  the  plow. 
I'll  probably  walk  backward,  but  I  promise  to  keep  my 
grip  on  the  plow  handles.  The  slaughter  of  the  inno- 
cents be  on  your  head!  You  see  my  references  are  all 
scriptural,  so  perhaps  I'm  a  proper  person  for  a  personal 
conductor  after  all.  Where's  the  atlas  ?  " 

They  plunged  deep  into  the  mysteries  of  map  and 
Baedeker  and  were  still  wrestling  with  routes  and  rates 
when  the  retiring  bell  rang.  Belinda  gathered  up  the 
books  and  the  sheets  of  paper  on  which  she  had  been 
taking  notes. 

"It's  a  subtle  combination  of  suicide  and  murder," 
she  said  gayly,  "but  I'm  going  through  with  it.  Good 
night,  Margaret." 

She  went  out  into  the  hall  and  down  the  stairs  to  her 
own  second-floor  hall  bedroom,  meeting,  on  the  way, 
scurrying  crowds  of  girls  who  tossed  her  blithe  good 
nights  in  passing.  The  teacher  of  English  in  Miss 
Ryder's  Select  School  for  Young  Ladies  was  popular  with 
the  pupils,  popular  to  a  degree  that  was,  at  times,  fatigue- 
ing.  One  and  all,  from  sentimental  Amelia  Bowers  to 
dignified  Katharine  Holland,  from  fat  Evangeline  Marie 
Jenkins,  the  brewer's  daughter,  to  slender  Adelaide  de 
Peyster  of  blood  incorrigibly  blue,  they  adored  her. 


PLEDGES  HERSELF  TO  AN  ADVENTURE    9 

"Miss  Carewe  has  a  wonderful  way  with  girls,"  Miss 
Priscilla  Ryder  was  wont  to  remark,  with  a  smile  of 
satisfaction.  That  way  of  Belinda's  had  brought  many 
shekels  into  the  Ryder  treasury.  Pupils  came,  lured  by 
a  rose-hued  prospectus.  They  stayed  for  the  sake  of 
Belinda,  and  even  the  thorniest  and  most  impossible  of 
them  was  as  wax  in  the  Youngest  Teacher's  hands. 

Incidentally,  it  may  be  noted  that  Belinda's  way  did 
not  confine  its  sphere  of  action  to  the  girls.  It  was  a 
most  irresistible  little  way,  a  frank,  merry,  true-hearted, 
clear-headed,  impetuous,  beguiling  little  way.  The 
stately  Miss  Ryder  herself  had  not  been  proof  against 
it;  and  though  she  never  suspected  her  dependence,  had 
learned  to  turn  to  the  Youngest  Teacher  almost  as  inevit- 
ably as  did  the  girls,  in  all  times  of  storm  and  stress. 

Even  the  cold  and  unimpressionable  Miss  Barnes,  for 
whom  the  whole  school  had  the  most  profound  respect 
—  and  no  love  — succumbed  to  Belinda's  way. 

The  friendship  between  the  two  teachers  was  an  odd 
one,  but  the  association  was  profitable  to  both.  Belinda 
humanized  Miss  Barnes.  Miss  Barnes  supplied  a  balance 
wheel  for  Belinda.  And  when  the  two  conceived  the 
idea  of  chaperoning  parties  to  Europe,  the  advantages  of 
the  combination  were  emphasized.  Belinda  had  no 
difficulty  in  finding  girls  to  chaperon.  Her  only  trouble 
lay  in  fending  off  undesirables.  Moreover,  the  firmly 
implanted  school  tradition  that  whatever  the  Youngest 


10  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

Teacher  did  was  right,  made  her  admirers  the  most 
amenable  of  charges.  Miss  Barnes  attended  to  the 
business  end  of  the  tours  and  all  went  well. 

The  first  two  parties  were  made  up  entirely  of  Ryder 
girls.  The  third  season  saw  the  introduction  of  a  new 
element.  A  spinster  from  a  small  Tennessee  town,  an 
elderly  couple  from  Dakota,  and  a  superannuated  clergy- 
man from  Ohio  applied  for  admission  to  the  party,  of 
which  they  had  heard  through  girl  relatives  in  the  school. 

After  that,  there  were  as  many  grown-ups  as  girls  in 
the  Barnes-Carewe  parties,  but  they  were  child-like  grown- 
ups, quite  as  ingenuous  and  docile  as  the  girls.  Other- 
wise they  would  have  been  travelling  alone  or  would  have 
preferred  the  bustling  activity  of  a  Cook's  party  to  chaper- 
onage  by  two  young  women. 

In  time  came  the  fifth  season  of  the  combination  and, 
early  in  May,  Miss  Barnes  was  forced  to  abandon  her 
plans  and  drop  the  entire  burden  upon  Belinda's 
shoulders. 

"I'll  probably  make  an  awful  mess  of  it,"  said  that 
young  woman  to  herself,  as  she  made  ready  for  bed,  after 
having  committed  herself  to  the  adventure,  "but  there 
will  be  a  ram  in  the  thicket  somewhere.  My  thickets  are 
always  chuckful  of  rams." 


CHAPTER  TWO 

SPUING   WITCHERY 

PREPARATIONS  for  graduation  day  and  it's  attendant 
festivities,  together  with  the  usual  frenzied  attempts 
to  make  up  a  semester's  work  in  the  last  few  weeks  before 
final  examinations,  made  the  Maytime  a  season  of  strenu- 
ousness  at  the  Ryder  School;  and  Belinda  was  too  deeply 
absorbed  in  present  responsibilities  to  worry  much  over 
trials  to  come.  Baedeker  was  elbowed  aside  while  she 
gave  her  attention  to  such  vital  problems  as  the  number 
of  tucks  on  the  skirt  of  one  sweet  girl  graduate  and  the 
size  of  the  bouquet  to  be  carried  by  another,  the  printing 
of  programmes  for  the  Senior  dance,  the  refreshments 
for  the  Junior  tea,  the  floral  decorations  for  Commence- 
ment Day,  the  preparation  of  examination  papers,  the 
making  out  of  reports.  From  morning  to  night  she  spun 
round  like  a  whirling  Dervish,  paying  the  penalty  of  her 
versatility  and  her  popularity  while  Miss  Barnes,  less  in 
demand,  wrestled  conscientiously  with  plans  for  the 
European  tour.  During  the  second  week  of  May,  an 
elderly  couple  from  Ohio  dropped  out  of  the  party  on 
account  of  financial  reverses,  but,  close  upon  the  heels 

11 


12  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

of  this  happening  came  a  letter  from  a  Mrs.  Nicholson,  of 
Winsted,  Connecticut,  asking  whether  it  would  be  pos- 
sible for  her  to  join  the  party  at  so  late  a  date  and  making 
inquiries  concerning  terms,  itinerary  and  date  of  sailing. 

"You  will  have  to  run  up  and  see  her,  Belinda,"  said 
Miss  Barnes.  "She's  a  godsend." 

"Perhaps,"  admitted  Belinda  dubiously.  "She  may 
be  dreadful  but  I  like  her  letter.  It  smells  of  lavender." 

"It  smells  of  money."  Miss  Barnes  was  not  sentimental. 

"But  I  can't  possibly  take  the  time  to  go  to  Winsted." 

"You  must." 

And,  in  the  end,  Belinda  went.  When  the  teacher  of 
mathematics  said  "must"  argument  and  protest  were  vain. 

The  out-of-door  world  was  enchanting  on  that  third 
Saturday  in  May.  Even  suburbs  seemed  beautiful  and 
when  the  train  left  closely  crowded  settlements  behind 
and  wound  its  serpentine  way  out  into  the  real  country, 
Belinda  sighed  a  little  sigh  of  content  and  thanked  the 
gods  that  for  one  day  she  need  not  be  adored.  There 
were  times  when  the  role  of  universal  favourite  grew 
wearisome  and  this  young  woman  of  the  piquant  face, 
the  infectious  gaiety,  the  irresistible  manner,  wished 
devoutly  that  she  might  win  her  triumphs  through  mind 
or  muscle  rather  than  through  personality. 

"There's  nothing  in  it,"  she  confided  dolefully  to 
Margaret  Barnes,  in  one  of  these  moods.  "I  want  to 
be  a  plain  woman  with  straight  hair  and  prominent  shoul- 


SPRING  WITCHERY  13 

der  blades  and  a  big  brain,  or  I'd  like  to  be  a  first-class 
cook  or  charwoman.  I'm  sick  of  being  tactful  and 
having  curly  hair  and  dimples.  Of  course,  I  make  my 
living  that  way,  but  it's  humiliating  to  think  that  if  my 
dimples  should  fill  out  or  my  hair  fall  out,  my  occupation 
would  be  gone.  I'd  rather  have  a  great  soul  than  a  good 
complexion  —  no,  I  don't  know  that  I  would,  after  all. 
A  muddy  complexion  is  awful,  and  it's  all  on  the  surface. 
One  can  have  reserves  about  one's  soul." 

Miss  Barnes  caught  the  note  of  earnestness  in  the 
petulant,  half-laughing  complaint. 

"Don't  worry  about  your  soul,  dear,"  she  said. 
"There's  no  muddiness  there.  The  sunshine  lights  it 
clear  to  the  very  bottom." 

"Shallow  little  thing,"  scoffed  Belinda,  but  she  felt 
comforted. 

She  was  thinking  of  this  conversation  as  she  walked 
along  the  village  streets  of  Winsted  and  out  along  the 
country  road  in  search  of  Mrs.  Nicholson's  home.  After 
all,  life  was  good  even  when  one  was  a  very  small  person, 
mentally,  morally  and  physically.  One  didn't  have  to 
be  a  great  poet  in  order  to  have  spring  tug  at  one's  heart 
and  a  genius  for  anything  save  poetry  would  probably 
get  between  one  and  the  springtime.  It  would  be  a  pity 
to  be  ugly,  too,  when  the  world  was  so  beautiful.  One 
would  feel  such  an  alien  even  if  one  did  have  a  beautiful 
soul.  It  would  be  as  though  the  apple  trees  just  went  to 


14  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

work  and  had  apples  without  bothering  to  have  blossoms. 
Beauty  was  good,  good,  good,  and  youth  was  good,  and  a 
light  heart  was  good,  and  genius  might  go  hang  for 
aught  that  Miss  Belinda  Carewe  would  care. 

Having  come  to  this  reprehensible  conclusion,  the 
frivolous  young  woman  deliberately  abandoned  her 
quest  and  turned  aside  into  an  orchard  whose  gate  stood 
invitingly  open.  Mrs.  Nicholson  could  wait.  Belinda 
had  business  with  the  spring.  A  well-worn  narrow  path 
ran  away  beneath  the  bloom-laden  trees,  and  the  girl 
followed  it  until  the  road  was  out  of  sight.  Then  she  sat 
down  under  a  gnarled  old  apple  tree  with  her  back  to  the 
path  and  gave  herself  up  to  sensuous  enjoyment.  First 
she  shut  her  eyes  so  that  nothing  might  distract  her  atten- 
tion from  the  fragrance  that  filled  the  air;  that  delicious 
fragrance,  penetrating,  sweet,  insistent,  yet  never  cloying, 
a  thing  apart  from  the  heavy  midsummer  scents  of  honey- 
suckle or  jasmine  or  even  rose,  a  fragrance  with  the  heart 
of  the  spring  in  it,  hinting  at  delight,  promising  joy. 
Belinda  surrendered  to  the  sweetness  of  it,  relaxing  tired 
nerves,  drinking  in  long  breaths  of  perfume.  A  droning 
hum  of  bees  mingled  sound  with  scent  and  she  snuggled 
down  more  comfortably  against  the  friendly  tree,  half- 
drowsy  with  well-being,  until  a  thought  of  the  beauty 
overhead  wooed  her  to  open  her  eyes  and  look  up  into 
the  drift  of  pink  and  white  blossom  against  a  sky  of  silvery 
springtime  blue. 


SPRING  WITCHERY  15 

The  drowsiness  fell  away.  She  was  awake  in  every 
nerve,  in  every  sense.  An  oriole  flashed  from  tree  to 
tree.  Somewhere  among  the  blossoms  a  bird  was  letting 
his  gladness  overrun  in  a  deluge  of  song.  Oh,  the  world 
was  beautiful  and  life  was  a  joy !  Her  mind  swung  back  to 
that  old  question  of  hair  and  dimples,  and  in  the  midst 
of  her  spring  rapture  she  was  seized  by  a  frivolous  desire 
to  know  whether  her  hair  still  waved,  and  her  dimples 
still  lurked  in  waiting  for  her  smiles.  A  little,  light, 
foolish  woman  creature  she  was,  and  she  admitted  it, 
but  she  knew  she  was  pretty,  and  she  was  glad  of  it  — 
extraordinarily  glad  of  it  in  this  magic  world  where  to  be 
ugly  would  have  been  to  be  out  of  tune. 

She  opened  her  little  bag,  took  out  a  small  mirror  and 
proceeded  shamelessly  and  appreciatively  to  study  her 
own  face. 

Yes,  her  hair  still  waved.  It  was  nice  hair,  red  brown 
with  gold  lights  in  it.  Personally,  Belinda  perferred 
blondes,  but  things  might  have  been  worse.  Her  forehead 
wasn't  intellectual.  She  admitted  that  ruefully.  It  was 
too  low  for  soaring  intellect,  but  it  was  broad  and  smooth, 
and  her  brows  were  really  very  nice.  With  that  hair 
one  might  have  had  pink  eyebrows,  and  it  would  be  horrid 
to  have  to  colour  them.  No  fault  to  be  found  with  the 
brown  eyes,  and  the  nose  was  unobjectionable  save  for 
the  faint,  hardly  visible  glints  of  a  few  freckles  which  the 
spring  wind  had  kissed  into  being.  A  complexion  beyond 


16  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

reproach,  a  mouth  slightly  larger  than  the  canons  of 
beauty  require  but  an  adorablfe  mouth  made  for  smiles 
and  kisses,  and  a  chin  that  was,  if  such  a  thing  were  pos- 
sible, more  kissable  than  the  mouth  above  it. 

Belinda  did  not  estimate  all  these  features  at  their  real 
value.  She  was  not  vain,  but  she  was  appreciative;  and, 
on  the  whole,  the  state  of  things  revealed  by  the  mirror 
satisfied  her. 

"Not  bad,"  she  said  genially  to  the  face  that  looked 
up  at  her.  "Not  at  all  bad,  my  dear.  You  really  do 
credit  to  the  stage  setting." 

And,  as  she  spoke,  a  sound  behind  her  made  her  turn 
swiftly  to  find  a  young  man  looking  down  at  her  with 
frank  amusement  in  his  face,  and  admiration  as  frank. 

He  did  not  pause.  Before  she  recovered  her  breath 
he  had  passed  and  was  swinging  away  up  the  path;  but 
he  had  seen  her  studying  the  mirror.  He  had  heard  her. 
He  must  have  heard. 

Belinda  sat  staring  after  him,  her  face  flushed  so  rosily 
that,  beside  it,  the  apple  blossoms  were  pallid. 

"Served  you  right  for  being  a  conceited  little  toad, 
Belinda  Carewe!"  she  said  at  last,  with  vicious  fervour. 
The  spring  spell  was  broken.  The  girl  rose,  pinned  on 
her  hat  and  followed  the  path  back  to  the  road.  The 
blush  lingered  on  her  cheeks;  but,  a  little  later,  as  she 
sounded  the  knocker  on  the  door  of  Mrs.  Nicholson's 
picturesque  old  house,  she  murmured  defiantly: 


SPRING  WITCHERY  17 

"Well,  I  don't  care.  It  wasn't  bad — as  faces  go," 
and  a  smile  flickered  in  the  brown  eyes,  though  it  did 
not  reach  her  lips. 

Mrs.  Nicholson's  house  was  early  Colonial;  her  furni- 
ture was  Sheraton  and  Heppel white;  her  silver  and  china 
were  old  English;  and,  in  a  gentle,  unassertive  way,  the 
mistress  of  the  house  harmonized  with  her  belongings. 
Belinda  realized,  as  the  little  lady  held  out  a  slender, 
welcoming  hand  to  her,  in  the  shadowy  parlour,  that  the 
picture  was  consistent,  with  a  consistency  delicately  aloof 
from  that  achieved  by  the  modern  lover  of  antiques,  who 
ransacks  second-hand  shops  for  old  mahogany,  and  its 
appropriate  accompaniments  and  tries  to  create  an 
atmosphere  with  his  adopted  Lares  and  Penates. 

"This  is  Miss  Carewe?"  a  thin,  sweet  voice  inquired; 
and,  as  the  gentle,  near-sighted  eyes  came  close  enough  to 
Belinda's  face  to  see  it  clearly,  a  surprise,  tinged  faintly 
with  distress,  dawned  in  them. 

"Oh,  my  dear,  you're  very  young,"  Mrs.  Nicholson 
said  with  a  soft  little  flutter  in  her  voice  and  manner;  but 
she  still  held  Belinda's  hand  and  now  she  patted  it  reas- 
suringly as  though  she  wished  it  understood  that  per- 
sonally she  had  no  prejudice  against  extreme  youth. 

"No,  really,  I'm  not,"  Belinda  protested.  "I'm  much 
older  than  I  look.  You  can't  call  twenty-five  very  young 
Mrs.  Nicholson." 

"Twenty-five?      Really?     One    wouldn't    dream    it, 


18  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

child.  I  married  at  sixteen  and  I  had  lost  two  children 
and  my  husband  before  I  was  twenty-five.  No,  that's 
not  young,  as  years  go,  but  somehow  or  other  I  fancied 
you  quite  a  spinster.  The  responsibility  of  taking  a  party 
abroad,  you  know.  Such  an  undertaking!  I  supposed 
only  a  woman  of  years  would  have  the  courage.  But 
the  young  people  are  wonderful  nowadays  —  quite 
wonderful.  I  always  tell  my  nephew  that.  He's  really 
amazing  himself,  though  I  don't  find  that  young  men  have 
changed  so  much  since  my  day  as  young  girls  have.  My 
nephew  is  very  much  like  his  great-uncle  —  my  husband 
—  only  his  manners  are  not  so  good.  Don't  you  find 
that  the  young  men  nowadays  lack  polish,  my  dear? — but 
then  you  haven't  their  grandfathers  to  measure  them  by 
as  I  have." 

She  relinquished  Belinda's  hand  to  cross  the  room  and 
touch  a  bell. 

"You  wrill  lunch  with  me  of  course  —  oh,  but  that  is 
quite  understood.  I  couldn't  allow  you  to  go  away  with- 
out luncheon.  Susan  will  take  your  coat  and  hat.  Oh, 
yes,  do  take  off  your  hat.  I  can't  at  all  accept  this  modern 
idea  of  lunching  with  one's  hat  on.  There's  such  an  air 
of  haste  about  it  —  as  if  one  were  leaving  at  the  very 
earliest  opportunity.  Everything  seems  hurried  now, 
doesn't  it?  I  lose  my  breath  whenever  I  go  outside  of 
my  own  gate." 

The  maid  who  had  answered  the  bell  was  late  Irish  — 


SPRING  WITCHERY  19 

entirely  out  of  the  picture.  Mrs.  Nicholson  admitted  her 
consciousness  of  the  false  note  by  a  deprecatory  smile  as 
the  girl  carried  off  Belinda's  coat  and  hat. 

"It  is  difficult  to  get  any  one,"  she  explained  regret- 
fully. "My  cook  has  been  with  me  ever  since  I  married, 
but  my  man  died  some  time  ago.  He  had  been  my  father's 
butler  and  was  old  —  eighty-six  I  believe.  I  find  that 
waitresses  and  chambermaids  marry  so  persistently  and 
now  one  takes  what  one  can  get.  Susan  is  a  good  girl 
but  she  doesn't  understand  the  mahogany.  I  really 
have  to  attend  to  the  dining  table  myself.  I'm  glad 
you  took  off  your  hat,  my  dear.  You  have  such 
pretty  hair." 

Seated  on  a  Heppelwhite  chair,  with  deferential  con- 
sideration for  its  spidery  legs,  Belinda  was  beaming  her 
blissful  content  and  restraining  an  unruly  desire  to  arise 
and  forcibly  hug  the  little  old  lady  who  sat  opposite  her. 

"You  don't  mind  my  admiring  your  home,"  she  said, 
half -timidly.  Perhaps  the  young  women  of  Mrs.  Nichol- 
son's day  would  have  considered  open  admiration  rude. 

The  mistress  of  the  house  smiled  reassuringly. 

"I  shduld  mind  very  much  if  you  didn't  admire  it," 
she  said.  "It  has  been  in  the  family  for  eight  generations 
and  all  the  furniture  is  old  • —  very  old.  I  am  so  used  to 
it  that  I  suppose  I  do  not  look  at  it  quite  as  strangers  do, 
but  they  tell  me  that  most  of  it  is  very  fine.  My  nephew 
is  extravagant  about  it,  and  I  fancy  he  knows  about  such 


20  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

things.  Some  day  all  this  will  go  to  him.  There's  no 
one  else." 

There  was  a  touch  of  pathos  in  the  words,  but  apparently 
the  speaker  was  unconscious  of  it,  for  she  smiled  —  the 
serene,  cheerful  little  smile  which  Belinda  came  to  know 
and  love. 

"I  never  realized  before  what  a  difference  there  could 
be  between  a  Sheraton  sofa  that  has  grown  up  among  its 
own  people  and  a  Sheraton  sofa  that  is  homesick,"  the 
girl  said,  half  jestingly,  half  seriously. 

"Dear  lady,  every  piece  of  this  furniture  looks  as 
though  it  had  been  born  right  here  in  the  house.  Now 
just  suppose  that  sofa  had  been  turned  out  into  a  cold 
world,  when  it  was  young,  and  had  been  buffeted  about 
in  incongruous  settings  and  huddled  in  with  the  trash  of 
a  second-hand  shop,  and  finally  dragged  to  light  by  a 
bargain  hunter." 

"Oh,  my  dear!"  expostulated  Mrs.  Nicholson,  sending 
an  apologetic  look  toward  the  sofa  in  question  as  though 
she  feared  its  feelings  might  be  hurt  by  the  irreverent 
suggestion. 

"It  wouldn't  be  at  all  what  it  is  now,"  Belinda  went  on. 
"Of  course,  one  could  patch  up  its  wounds  and  have  it 
refinished  and  set  it  up  among  real  and  fake  antiques 
collected  from  the  four  corners  of  the  earth,  but  it  would 
never  be  itself  again.  Its  lines  would  be  intact  but  its 
spirit  would  be  broken.  I'll  never  collect  old  mahogany 


SPRING  WITCHERY  21 

after  this  visit  to  you,  Mrs.  Nicholson.  Since  I  haven't 
inherited  any,  I'll  have  to  marry  a  man  who  has  it  in  his 
family  for  I  shall  never  be  quite  happy  until  I  have  a 
house  where  old  furniture  is  at  home  —  a  part  of  the 
family.  That  arm-chair  is  so  humanly  hospitable  I  can 
hardly  keep  from  curtesying  to  it  —  but  the  corner  cabinet 
seems  a  shade  distant  and  cool  —  civil  of  course,  but 
formal." 

Mrs.  Nicholson  was  smiling  her  delight.  Even  the 
younger  generation,  so  it  seemed,  could  be  sympathetic; 
and  she  entered  into  her  guest's  whimsical  mood. 

"I  don't  think  the  cabinet  quite  approves  of  my  going 
abroad  with  you,"  she  murmured  confidentially.  "It's 
in  the  nature  of  an  innovation,  you  know;  and  old  Shera- 
ton distrusts  innovations.  My  furniture  has  been  quite 
argumentative  on  the  subject  of  this  trip.  Are  you  sure 
you  can  take  care  of  me,  my  dear?" 

"Positive,"  Belinda  asserted  stoutly,  though  her  heart 
sank  within  her.  She  had  not  counted  upon  dainty, 
porcelain  old  ladies,  in  planning  to  show  the  sights  of 
Europe  to  an  assorted  party. 

"  My  friends  think  I'm  foolish  to  want  to  go,  at  my  age," 
Mrs.  Nicholson  explained  with  a  faint  flush  on  her  delicate 
cheeks,  "  but  I've  always  dreamed  of  going  and  there  were 
always  responsibilities  to  hold  me  here,  until  now.  My 
nephew  offered  to  take  me,  but  I  couldn't  allow  that, 
and  I  have  very  little  money  of  my  own  to  spend.  It  will 


22  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

be  pleasant  to  go  with  you.  I'm  sure  of  it  now  that  I've 
seen  you  —  and  you'll  not  find  me  troublesome." 

"I'll  find  you  adorable,"  said  Belinda  gently.  "I've 
found  you  so  already." 

The  flush  deepened  on  the  sweet  old  face,  but  the 
smile  that  went  with  it  was  one  of  pleasure. 

"Youth  is  extravagant  —  but  I  like  its  extravagance. 
Come,  my  dear.  Luncheon  is  served." 

When,  an  hour  later,  Belinda  started  homeward,  her 
hostess  went  down  the  brick  walk  with  her  and  stood, 
for  a  time,  talking  with  the  girl  across  the  low  gate  between 
the  huge  bushes  of  flowering  lilac.  As  they  lingered 
there,  a  young  man,  coming  through  the  hall  from  the 
back  of  the  house,  stopped  just  within  the  shadow  beyond 
the  open  front  door  and  looked  out  at  the  picture  framed 
by  the  arching  branches  of  lilac. 

A  low  whistle  of  surprise  came  from  his  lips. 

"By  all  the  gods  of  luck,  it  is!  It  is!"  he  exclaimed 
joyously.  "Now  where  did  the  blessed  old  lady  find  her!" 

He  stood  watching  still  with  the  surprise  and  delight 
in  his  eyes,  until  the  girl  turned  away  and  walked  down 
the  road  toward  the  village;  but,  when  Mrs.  Nicholson 
reached  the  house,  she  found  him  seated  at  the  dining 
table,  while  Susan,  with  a  radiant  smile,  was  bringing  the 
luncheon  dishes  back  from  the  kitchen. 

"Well,  auntie,"  he  said  as  he  rose,  and  Mrs.  Nicholson's 
smile  outdid  Susan's  in  radiance. 


SPRING  WITCHERY  23 

"My  dear  Jack!  When  did  you  come  ?  And  luncheon 
all  cold  —  and  such  a  charming  girl  here  for  luncheon 
with  me.  It  would  have  paid  you  to  be  on  time." 

"I  came  out  on  the  noon  train,  but  I  went  over  to 
Dawson's  across  the  short  cut  to  see  that  bull  pup  he's 
been  offering  me.  Luncheon's  quite  all  right,  but  I'm 
sorry  to  be  a  nuisance.  Who's  the  girl?" 

The  question  came  in,  casually,  indifferently.  Evi- 
dently Mr.  John  Courtney  was  uninterested  but  polite. 

"She's  Miss  Carewe.  My  dear  boy,  you  could  have 
knocked  me  over  with  a  feather  when  I  saw  her.  I  was 
never  so  surprised  in  my  life.  I  hadn't  expected  her  to 
be  young." 

"But  why  not  ?"  The  young  man's  eyes  were  puzzled. 
He  had  never  heard  Miss  Carewe's  name  before. 

"She's  the  young  lady  with  whom  I'm  going  to  Europe, 
Jack.  To  conduct  a  party  through  Europe,  at  her  age! 
It  seems  remarkable  to  me.  I  was  distressed  at  first, 
but  she  is  capable  —  very  capable.  I'm  sure  of  it,  and 
so  delightful.  I  shall  enjoy  her  almost  as  much  as 
Europe.  It's  really  a  pity  you  didn't  come  earlier, 
Jack." 

Jack  assented  perfunctorily.  A  mad  idea  had  sprung 
up,  full-fledged,  in  his  brain  and  he  was  inwardly  arguing 
with  it. 

He  had  said  he  must  meet  her  again..  There  wasn't 
another  face  in  the  world  like  hers.  Why  even  she 


24  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

admitted   that  it  was  a  satisfactory  face  —  he  laughed 
suddenly  to  his  aunt's  bewilderment. 

"What  is  it,  Jack?" 

"  Nothing  —  just  a  funny  thing  I  happened  to  remem- 
ber —  apropos  of  Europe." 

Well,  here  was  his  chance.  Why  not  take  it?  She'd 
probably  detest  him  because  he  had  seen  her  and  heard 
her  in  the  orchard  —  but  somebody  had  said  that  it  was 
well  to  begin  with  a  little  aversion  and  in  three  months  — 
surely,  without  self-confidence  a  fellow  might  expect  to 
make  some  headway  in  three  months. 

"Yes,  thank  you,  Aunt  Florilla  —  two  lumps,  please." 

Mrs.  Nicholson  looked  mildly  displeased.  She  had 
been  obliged  to  ask  him  twice  whether  he  would  take 
sugar  in  his  tea.  His  manners  were  certainly  not  what 
his  great-uncle's  manners  had  been. 


CHAPTER  THREE 

THE   UNPLEASANT    OLD    PARTY    SURPRISES    HIS    AUNT 

Two  days  after  Belinda's  visit  to  Winsted,  she  received 
a  letter  written  in  a  man's  hand  and  upon  hotel  station- 
ery. She  hurried  to  Miss  Barnes's  room  with  it  at  the 
close  of  school. 

"Margaret,  here's  another  eleventh-hour  sacrifice.  Mr. 
John  Courtney  wants  to  join  my  party,  of  which  he  has 
heard  through  relatives,  and  if  I  can  make  room  for  him 
will  I  kindly  tell  him  when  we  will  sail  and  let  him  know 
what  amount  to  remit  to  me.  Apparently  his  mind  is 
quite  made  up.  It's  only  a  question  of  will  I,  won't  I. 
He  doesn't  seem  to  care  what  the  trip  will  cost." 

"Probably  his  relatives  have  told  him  the  terms." 

"Yes,  I  suppose  that's  it.  Funny  he  didn't  mention 
who  they  are  —  as  references,  you  know.  He  says,  though, 
that  I  may  write  to  the  President  of  the  First  National 
Bank  if  I  require  references." 

"You'd  better  do  it,"  advised  Miss  Barnes. 

"Useless,  my  dear;  perfectly  useless.  His  wanting  to 
go  with  us  is  a  guarantee  that  he's  old  and  doddering 
and  guileless.  If  he  had  initiative  enough  to  be  bad, 

25 


<*6  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

wild  horses  couldn't  force  him  into  such  a  party.  Prob- 
ably he's  dreadful.  I  love  old  ladies  but  I  don't  like  old 
men.  They're  usually  peevish.  I  suppose  it's  because 
a  man  isn't  trained  to  resignation  as  a  woman  is  and 
when  he  finally  has  to  give  up  it  goes  hard  with  him. 
And  then  old  ladies  get  neater  and  neater  and  old 
men  get  untidier  and  untidier.  I  won't  have  him!" 

"Belinda, you  can't  afford  to  throw  away  the  money  — 
and  he'll  hobnob  with  Mr.  Perkins." 

"That's  a  fact.  Perhaps  two  will  be  better  than  one. 
They  can  quarrel  with  each  other.  I'll  write  to  Mr. 
John  Courtney  and  tell  him  that  he's  a  horrid  old  thing 
and  that  I  already  detest  him  but  that  I'll  put  up  with 
him  for  the  sake  of  his  money  and  please  send  check." 

A  letter  was  written  and  by  return  mail  came  the 
required  check.  A  week  later,  Belinda  sent  to  Mr. 
Courtney  a  second  epistle,  business-like,  typewritten, 
dictated  by  Miss  Barnes,  inclosing  luggage  tags  for  cabin 
and  hold  and  giving  minute  and  explicit  directions  con- 
cerning luggage,  sailing  date,  place  of  meeting,  steamer 
rugs,  overshoes,  underwear,  raincoat  and  letter  of  credit. 

"You  must  always  go  upon  the  assumption  that  they 
aren't  capable  of  attending  to  the  slightest  detail  for 
themselves,"  Miss  Barnes  explained.  "It's  the  only 
way  to  avoid  trouble." 

And  Jack  Courtney,  sitting  in  the  smoking  room  at 
the  Knickerbocker  Club,  read  the  conscientious  letter 


THE  OLD  PARTY  SURPRISES  HIS  AUNT   27 

of  instruction  with  increasing  joy,  not  unmixed  with 
apprehension. 

v"For  a  chap  who's  crossed  at  least  once  a  year  for  the 
last  ten  years  and  spends  a  good  share  of  his  time  in  Lon- 
don and  Paris,  this  is  rather  a  rum  go,"  he  said  gaily 
to  himself.  Then  his  smile  faded. 

"But  if  she  finds  out  that  I  have  knocked  around  Europe 
a  lot,  there'll  be  the  devil  to  pay.  I  may  get  around  the 
orchard  episode  but  I'd  never  be  able  to  square  that. 
I'll  have  to  fix  Aunt  Florilla  the  moment  I  meet  her  or 
she'll  queer  the  whole  thing." 

If,  on  the  fifteenth  of  June,  anything  short  of  battle, 
murder  or  sudden  death  would  have  excused  Belinda 
Carewe  from  sailing  for  Europe  on  the  sixteenth,  the 
young  woman  would  have  taken  advantage  of  the 
excuse  and  abandoned  her  party  to  its  fate.  Cowardice 
descended  upon  her  like  a  garment  and  she  shamelessly 
confessed  that  she  would  welcome  any  accident,  not 
fatal,  that  would  save  her  from  the  task  she  had  volun- 
tarily assumed. 

"Blue  funk,  Margaret!  That's  what  it  is.  I  never 
knew  what  it  was  like  before.  My  throat's  dry  and  my 
tongue  cleaves  to  the  roof  of  my  mouth  and  my  flesh 
creeps  and  my  hair  sits  up.  How  I  ever  allowed  myself 
to  get  into  such  a  scrape,  I  can't  see.  I'm  too  noble  to 
tell  you  you  are  the  responsible  party,  but  really  you 
oughtn't  to  have  allowed  me  to  rush  on  to  my  doom.  I'm 


28  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

scared  blue."  Miss  Barnes  administered  comfort  and 
encouragement  as  best  she  could,  and  as  the  hour 
for  sailing  approached  the  mercurial  Young  Person's 
spirits  rose. 

"After  all,  it  isn't  so  bad.  I'm  used  to  the  two  girls 
and  Mrs.  Nicholson's  a  love  and  Mrs.  Bagby  seemed 
awfully  sensible,  and  the  Perkinses  are  nice  old  souls  even 
if  he  has  a  liver.  Mr.  Courtney's  the  unknown  quan- 
tity and  there's  no  use  in  being  afraid  of  a  man  at  any 
age.  They're  susceptible  to  proper  treatment  anywhere 
between  the  cradle  and  the  grave.  I'm  actually  begin- 
ning to  enjoy  the  situation,  Margaret,  but  hold  my  hand 
until  I'm  on  the  boat  so  that  I  can't  possibly  get  panicky 
at  the  last  moment  and  run  away." 

It  was  a  smiling,  self-possessed  young  person  who 
greeted  the  various  members  of  the  Carewe  party  as 
they  came  up  the  gang-plank,  showed  them  their  state- 
rooms and  their  steamer  chairs,  had  their  rugs  and  pillows 
properly  bestowed  and  made  herself  agreeable  to  friends 
and  relatives  of  her  charges. 

"All  here  except  Mr.  Courtney,"  she  said,  at  last, 
consulting  her  watch.  "  I  asked  him  to  come  early,  but 
I  suppose  he  has  been  detained."  There  was  a  faint 
anxiety  in  her  face  but  she  valiantly  suppressed  it.  A 
few  moments  later  the  first  "all  ashore"  warning  sounded 
and  the  crowd  began  to  flock  off  the  boat,  urged  by  anx- 
ious and  energetic  stewards.  There  was  a  babel  of  good- 


THE  OLD  PARTY  SURPRISES  HIS  AUNT    29 

byes,  a  chorus  of  sobs  and  laughter,  all  the  confusion 
and  humour  and  pathos  that  inevitably  attend  a  mid- 
season  sailing,  but  Belinda  was  oblivious  to  the  crowd 
around  her.  The  anxiety  on  her  face  had  deepened, 
her  eyes  were  fixed  eagerly  on  the  carriage  entrance 
to  the  dock. 

"What  will  I  do  if  he's  left  behind?"  she  demanded 
desperately  of  Miss  Barnes,  as  that  friendly  prop  and 
bulwark  reluctantly  turned  her  face  shoreward.  "I've 
got  his  money  and  his  tickets  and  everything." 

"I'll  send  him  on  the  Lucania  next  Saturday.  You'll 
have  to  meet  him  and  fix  up  the  money  proposition  with 
him.  If  he  won't  go  alone,  I'll  cable  you  and  you  can 
return  his  money  to  me." 

"Gang-plank  going!"  shouted  an  officer. 

Belinda  seized  his  arm,  as  Miss  Barnes  fled  shoreward. 

"Oh,  please,"  she  wailed.  "Is  it  really?  One  of  my 
party  hasn't  come  yet." 

The  man  relented,  as  he  looked  at  the  face  turned  up 
to  his. 

"Ten  minutes  yet,  Miss;  but  we've  got  to  get  this 
mob  off,  somehow." 

Five  minutes  sped  by.  The  passengers  now  were 
crowded  along  the  rail,  waving  adieux  and  shouting 
last  words  to  friends  ashore.  Belinda  stood  between 
Amelia  Bowers  and  Laura  May  Lee.  They  were  laugh- 
ing, blowing  kisses,  throwing  flowers  to  a  group  of  friends 


30  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

below;  but  she  gazed  over  the  heads  of  the  crowd  toward 
the  shore  end  of  the  dock.  Two  minutes  passed.  There 
were  only  three  minutes  left  now.  The  man  could  not 
make  it.  There  was  no  chance  for  him. 

And,  just  as  she  abandoned  hope,  a  cab  dashed  through 
the  gateway  and  down  the  dock,  the  crowd  scattering 
before  it,  the  police  shouting  futile  warnings.  For  an 
instant  Belinda  hoped  again,  but  the  hope  perished  miser- 
ably as  a  tall,  broad-shouldered  young  man  sprang  out 
of  the  cab,  handed  some  money  to  the  driver  with  a 
laughing  word  of  thanks,  saw  his  trunk  and  bags  safely 
on  the  shoulders  of  waiting  stewards,  and  followed  the 
men  up  the  gang-plank,  which  was  promptly  lowered 
behind  him. 

The  ship  throbbed,  quivered,  slipped  slowly  away 
from  the  mass  of  upturned  faces;  and  Belinda  Carewe 
sat  limply  down  on  a  steamer  chair,  making  a  prodigious 
effort  to  look  cheerful. 

Mrs.  Nicholson,  Mrs.  Bagby,  the  Perkinses,  brother  and 
sister,  had  already  gone  down  to  their  staterooms  to  don 
steamer  clothes.  Amelia  and  Laura  May  still  hung 
over  the  rail  sending  pantomime  messages.  Belinda 
felt  very  much  alone,  very  small,  very  miserable,  very 
incompetent.  Not  an  atom  of  her  buoyant  self-confidence 
was  left  to  her. 

And  to  this  woeful  young  woman,  in  the  brown  travel- 
ling coat,  came  the  strapping  young  man  who  had  boarded 


THE  OLD  PARTY  SURPRISES  HIS  AUNT   31 

the  steamer  at  the  last  moment.  She  did  not  notice 
him  until  he  was  standing  before  her,  but  when  she 
did  look  up  at  him  something  familiar  in  his  face 
caught  her  gaze  and  held  it.  For  a  moment  her 
memory  fumbled  vainly.  Then  the  scent  of  apple 
blossoms  stole  oddly  upon  the  salt  sea  air  and  she 
remembered.  This  was  the  Odious  Creature!  On 
the  heels  of  this  consciousness  came  the  realization 
that  he  was  speaking  to  her. 

"Miss  Carewe,  I  believe?"  he  said  courteously,  as 
he  lifted  his  cap.  "My  name  is  Courtney,  John 
Courtney." 

Belinda  sat  staring  at  him,  dumb  and  breathless,  a 
slow  crimson  creeping  into  her  cheeks,  incredulous  amaze- 
ment flooding  her  eyes.  The  thing  was  unbelievable, 
overwhelming.  Indignation  boiled  up  in  her  soul.  She 
had  been  tricked,  deceived. 

"By  whom?"  Reason  inquired  pertinently,  and  her 
fury  collapsed.  After  all,  the  man  hadn't  told  her  that 
he  was  old  and  doddering.  She  had  jumped  to  conclus- 
ions. But  why  —  why  should  a  man  of  this  type  join 
a  party  like  hers,  and  what  coulcl  she  do  with  him  now 
that  he  was  there  ?  It  was  absurd  to  think  that  his  glimpse 
of  her  in  the  orchard  could  have  anything  to  do  with  the 
situation.  She  was  not  vain  enough  to  give  more  than 
a  fleeting  thought  to  that  theory.  The  thing  was  evidently 
a  coincidence,  an  abominable,  maddening  coincidence. 


32  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

Probably  he  would  not  remember  her  at  all,  would  not 
associate  her  with  the  orchard  episode.  There  was  not 
even  a  flicker  of  recognition  in  his  frank,  smiling  eyes. 

"I  hope  my  late  arrival  didn't  worry  you,"  he  was 
saying  cheerfully.  "A  business  matter  held  me  up  at 
the  last  moment  and  we  had  to  make  a  record  dash  down 
from  the  office." 

"I  had  quite  given  you  up,"  said  the  girl  in  the  chair, 
and  despite  heroic  effort,  her  voice  sounded  weak  and 
wobbly. 

To  conduct  a  thing  like  this  over  the  face  of  Europe! 
It  was  impossible  —  ridiculous ! 

But  to  Mr.  Courtney,  the  proposition  apparently 
seemed  natural  and  reasonable. 

"Our  chairs  are  all  here,  together?"  he  inquired, 
with  a  tinge  of  deference  in  his  tone  —  the  deference 
due  to  authority.  "That's  very  nice.  If  you  don't 
mind,  I'll  just  move  mine  and  put  it  beside  my  aunt's. 
Mrs.  Nicholson  is  my  great-aunt,  you  know.  I've 
planned  to  surprise  her.  Could  you  tell  me  where 
I  would  find  her?" 

Once  more  sheer  amazement  elicited  a  little  gasp  from 
the  girl  in  the  steamer  chair.  The  theory  of  coincidence 
was  shaken — shattered.  He  had  seen  her  in  Winsted. 
He  must  have  known.  Again  Reason  plunged  into  the 
breach.  The  man's  aunt  was  an  angel.  A  desire  to 
please  her,  to  be  with  her,  was  a  plausible  explanation  for 


THE  OLD  PARTY  SURPRISES  HIS  AUNT    33 

a  devoted  nephew's  joining  the  party  —  and  yet  —  and 
yet 

"Mrs.  Nicholson  has  gone  down  to  her  stateroom. 
Number  104.  She  will  be  delighted,  I  am  sure." 

Mr.  Courtney  bowed. 

"If  you'll  excuse  me,  I'll  run  down  and  see  her.  I'm 
by  way  of  being  maudlin  over  Aunt  Florilla.  She 
wouldn't  go  abroad  with  me,  so  I  decided  to  go  abroad 
with  her  and  it  seemed  to  me  it  would  be  very  jolly 
to  have  no  responsibility  about  things  —  not  but  what 
I  shall  be  delighted  to  be  of  use  to  you  at  any  time, 
Miss  Care  we." 

"Thank  you." 

The  tone  was  frosty  —  even  hostile.  Was  there  a 
wicked  twinkle  in  the  eyes  that  looked  down  at  her? 
The  voice  and  manner  were  above  suspicion,  but  those 
eyes 

Mr.  Courtney  ignored  the  cold  weather  signals. 

"I  suppose  the  whole  thing  is  an  old  story  to  you, 
though,"  he  said  airily.  "You  know  the  ropes  so  well. 
My  aunt  has  been  most  enthusiastic  about  your  capa- 
bilities. You'll  enjoy  Aunt  Florilla.  She's  all  to  the 
good.  Stateroom  104  you  said?" 

He  turned  away  with  a  debonair  wave  of  his  cap,  and 
Belinda  watched  him  go  swinging  along  the  deck,  followed 
by  admiring  glances  from  the  women  whom  he  passed. 
He  certainly  was  a  good-looking  creature  in  a  big,  clean- 


34  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

cut,  Gibsony  way;  but  when  Belinda  tried  to  see  herself 
attending  to  his  luggage  and  paying  his  carfare,  and 
hiring  cabs  for  him,  and  buying  his  railway  tickets,  imag- 
ination failed  her. 

"I  can't.  I  really  can't,"  she  said  to  herself  helplessly 
—  and  then  added,  with  swift  inconsistency,  "but  if  he 
interferes  and  upsets  plans  and  tries  to  do  things  for  his 
aunt  and  himself,  I  won't  stand  it  —  not  for  a  minute. 
He's  come  out  to  be  personally  conducted  and  personally 
conducted  he's  going  to  be." 

For  a  woman  who  has  spent  sixty-five  years  in  a  large 
Colonial  house,  full  of  closets,  first  acquaintance  with  a 
very  small,  two-berth  stateroom  has  its  problems.  Mrs. 
Nicholson  was  wrestling  with  a  few  of  these  problems 
when  interrupted  by  a  tap  on  the  door. 

"Come  in,"  she  called  promptly,  then  temporized. 
"At  least  come  in  as  far  as  you  can.  The  trunk  just 
won't  go  back  under  the  berth  and  there  isn't  room  for 
anybody,  when  the  trunk's  out.  If  you're  the  steward, 
maybe  you  can  do  something  about  it." 

The  door  opened  until  it  struck  the  mutinous  steamer 
trunk  and  a  man  thrust  his  head  through  the  opening 
and  eyed  the  little  lady  perched  up  on  the  narrow  sofa 
with  her  feet  crossed  under  her. 

"There  isn't  even  room  for  my  feet  on  the  floor  while 
the  trunk  is  out,"  she  explained.  "Can  you  get  in  far 
enough  to  do  anything  about  it?  Why!"  Her  eyes 


THE  OLD  PARTY  SURPRISES  HIS  AUNT    35 

widened;  she  felt  for  her  glasses  and  adjusted  them. 
"Why!"  she  repeated  feebly.  "Why,  Jack  Courtney!" 

"Hello,  Auntie,"  said  the  head.  "I'm  going  abroad 
with  you." 

Mrs.  Nicholson  untucked  her  feet  and  rested  them 
recklessly  in  the  trunk  tray. 

"Jack,  you  can't.     I'm  in  a  party." 

"So  am  I." 

"What  party?" 

"Miss  Carewe's." 

"What!" 

The  little  lady  leaned  back  against  the  wall,  overcome 
by  emotion. 

"Did  Miss  Carewe  know?" 

"Well,  she  knew  I  was  in  her  party  but  she  didn't  know 
I  was  your  nephew.  I  wanted  to  surprise  you." 

"You  have,"  admitted  his  aunt. 

"You  might  kiss  a  chap  who's  given  up  his  business 
and  come  to  sea  just  to  surprise  you,"  suggested  the  head 
reproachfully.  "Aren't  you  pleased?" 

"Why  of  course  I  am,  my  dear  boy.  Of  course  I  am, 
It's  perfectly  delightful,  only  I'm  so  amazed.  I  don't 
see  —  Miss  Carewe  did  say  something  about  a  recent 
addition  to  the  party.  She  mentioned  him  to-day.  He 
was  late,  I  believe.  But  he  was  old  —  quite  an  old, 
feeble  gentleman,  and  very  unpleasant.  At  least  I 
gathered  as  much  from  what  she  said  about  him." 


36  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

"I'm  the  feeble,  unpleasant  old  party." 

"But,  Jack  dear,  did  you  tell  her  —     -  ?" 

"I  didn't  tell  her  anything  except  that  I  wanted  to 
join  the  party.  She  must  have  gathered  the  rest  from 
my  epistolary  style." 

"If  you  could  get  further  in,  dear,  I  think  I  could  under- 
stand better.  There's  something  confusing  about  talking 
to  a  head  that  hasn't  any  body.  If  you  could  get  hold 
of  the  trunk  handle  at  that  end  and  lift  and  push,  and  I 
should  take  this  handle  and  shove  —  there !  It's  going. 
Oh,  that  is  better.  Come  in  now  and  let  me  see  if  it  really 
is  you.  Don't  muss  my  hair,  child.  Do  you  know  you 
really  are  very  nice  looking  —  not  so  handsome  as  your 
great-uncle,  but  then  he  was  exceptional.  Have  you 
seen  Miss  Care  we?" 

"She  told  me  where  to  find  you." 

"Wasn't  she  surprised?" 

Jack  Courtney  grinned. 

"She  was." 

"Why,  of  course,  when  she  was  expecting  a  very  old 
gentleman  —  but  Jack,  was  she  pleased  ?" 

"Oh,  as  to  that  —  modesty  forbids." 

"Of  course,  when  she  knows  you  —  but  just  at  first, 
to  have  a  young  gentleman  drop  into  her  party  so  unex- 
pectedly. She's  really  only  a  girl,  you  know  —  and  so 
pretty.  Didn't  you  think  her  very  pretty?" 

"Fairish,"  admitted  Mr.  Courtney  without  enthusiasm. 


THE  OLD  PARTY  SURPRISES  HIS  AUNT    37 

"I'd  call  her  more  than  that,  much  more  than  that. 
You  can  be  of  great  assistance  to  her,  I  should  think. 
You've  spent  so  much  time  in  Europe  that 

Her  nephew  interrupted  her. 

"That's  just  what  I  wanted  to  talk  to  you  about,  Auntie. 
You  see  what  I'm  going  to  Europe  for  this  time  is  to  be 
with  you  and  see  that  you're  properly  taken  care  of  and 
amused.  I  don't  care  anything  about  the  bally  old  sights 
or  hotels  or  trains.  Now,  if  Miss  Carewe  knew  that  I'd 
been  all  over  the  ground  and  lived  abroad  a  good  deal 
she  might  imagine  that  I'd  be  critical  —  that  I  wouldn't 
like  the  way  she  was  doing  things  —  that  I  knew  more 
about  it  than  she  did.  You  see  ?  That  would  be  embar- 
rassing and  uncomfortable  all  around.  I  don't  want 
her  to  know  that  I've  been  over  more  than  once  before  — 
just  a  hurried  trip.  That  one  trip  will  save  us  if  she 
catches  us  tripping  —  so  to  speak.  You'll  keep  mum, 
won't  you,  Auntie  ?  That's  a  duck." 

"But,  Jack,  I  might  forget  - 

"No  you  won't.  Just  shy  the  subject  if  it  ever  comes 
up  and  I'll  do  the  rest.  I'll  allow  myself  to  be  led  around 
like  a  pet  lamb  and  I  won't  volunteer  advice  or  assistance 
unless  asked  for  it.  It's  a  very  harmless  little  conspiracy, 
you  see.  Jtist  a  matter  of  a  few  reservations  for  the 
sake  of  making  Miss  Carewe  feel  comfortable." 

"Very  well,  dear.  It's  kind  of  you,  of  course.  And 
it's  very  nice  to  have  you,  very.  I  have  the  greatest 


38  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

confidence  in  Miss  Carewe,  the  greatest;  but  if  anything 
does  go  wrong  there's  something  about  a  man,  you  know. 
I  suppose  that's  an  old-fashioned  idea,  but  then  I'm  an 
old-fashioned  person,  and  quite  aside  from  any  question 
of  emergencies,  it's  a  great  happiness  to  have  you  with 
me,  my  boy.  It  will  add  wonderfully  to  my  pleasure  in 
this  trip  I've  waited  for  so  many  years.  I  do  appreciate 
your  thoughtfulness,  dear." 

Jack  Courtney's  conscience  felt  a  distinct  twinge  as 
he  bent  over  and  kissed  the  thin  white  hand  that  patted 
his  coat  lapel  and  yet,  after  all,  if  his  Aunt  Florilla  had 
not  been,  as  he  had  led  her  to  suppose,  the  motive  power 
behind  this  journey  of  his,  it  would  be  good  to  be  with 
her.  There  was  no  one  in  the  world  quite  like  Aunt 
Florilla. 

"This  turban,  Jack.  They  told  me  it  would  be  just 
the  thing  for  the  steamer,  but  I  don't  know.  It  looks  a 
little  bit  girlish,  don't  you  think  —  just  a  trifle  ?" 

He  smiled  into  the  anxious  face. 

"It's  exactly  right;  exactly." 

"And  I  brought  a  dinner  dress  particularly  for  the 
steamer.  I  read  in  one  of  the  Sunday  papers  that 
people  were  very  dressy  on  the  steamers  now;  but  my 
clothes  will  be  ruined,  simply  ruined.  There  isn't  a 
place  to  put  anything  except  tooth  brushes  and  comb- 
ings. Mrs.  Bagby  has  to  have  one  hook,  of  course,  and 
I  don't  seem  able  to  settle  anything.  So  many  people 


THE  OLD  PARTY  SURPRISES  HIS  AUNT  39 

gave  me  things  to  use  on  the  steamer.  My  bag's  full  of 
them,  but  there  isn't  any  place  to  put  them." 

Her  nephew  laughed. 

"Let  me  at  them.  I'll  get  you  ship-shape  here  in 
no  time." 

He  did.  Then  he  took  his  aunt  up  on  deck,  tucked 
her  into  her  chair,  was  introduced  to  Mr.  and  Miss  Per- 
kins and  Mrs.  Bagby,  made  a  few  polite,  inconsequential 
remarks  to  Miss  Carewe  and  strolled  off  toward  the 
bow  of  the  boat,  leaving  Mrs.  Nicholson  telling  the  story 
of  her  surprise  and  joy. 

"He's  like  my  own  son,"  she  said  as  she  ended  the 
tale,  "and  he  has  no  mother  and  father  of  his  own,  so  I 
suppose  I've  meant  a  great  deal  to  him." 

Belinda,  nestling  gloomily  among  her  steamer  cushions, 
tried  to  pump  up  a  glow  of  sympathy  with  the  proud 
aunt's  happiness  and  failed. 

Mr.  John  Courtney  was  a  white  elephant  on  her  hands 
and  —  well,  it  wasn't  normal  for  a  young  man  to  carry 
devotion  to  a  great-aunt  so  far.  And  there  was  that 
obnoxious  apple  orchard. 

Amelia  and  Laura  May  came  skurrying  along  the 
deck,  bareheaded,  pretty,  effervescent,  bubbling  over 
with  excitement. 

"Oh,  Miss  Carewe,  isn't  it  perfectly  dandy  ?"  Amelia 
began  when  she  came  within  hearing  distance.  "The 
Yale  cricket  team  is  on  board  and  Tommy  Shallcross  — 


40  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

Lizzie's  brother  —  is  in  it.  We  just  met  him  and  he's 
going  to  introduce  all  the  other  boys  to  us.  And  we've 
been  trying  to  make  out  which  is  Count  Bertrand  de 
Brissac.  There's  a  kind  of  pea-green,  thin-looking  man 
with  a  little  black  moustache,  but  we  can't  decide 
whether  he's  noble  or  just  sick.  There's  a  baron  on  the 
passenger  list,  too,  but,  some  way  or  other,  I  never  could 
get  interested  in  barons.  They  always  sound  sort  of 
old  and  fat  and  blond.  Don't  they  to  you,  Laura  May  ? 
Counts  sound  so  much  slenderer  and  darker.  There's 
a  perfectly  scrumptious  man  on  the  other  side  of  the 
boat,  talking  to  one  of  the  officers,  but  he's  just  American. 
You  can  get  Americans  at  home.  What  I  want  to  meet 
is  somebody  with  feudal  halls  and  ancestors  and  moated 
granges  and  things.  I  hope  they  aren't  all  pea-green  — 
the  foreign  noblemen,  I  mean." 

"Well,  I've  got  an  idea  that  they're  mostly  yellow," 
said  Mrs.  Bagby  in  her  vigorous,  positive  way,  "but  we 
always  kept  American  help  on  the  farm  so  I  don't  know 
much,  at  first  hand,  about  furriners." 

"I'd  like  a  lord  better  than  anything  except  a  duke  - 
and  dukes  are  awfully  scarce,"  Laura  May  announced 
reflectively.  "They  aren't  so  romantic  as  French 
and  Italians  and  Spanish  but  they're  solider,  and  then 
you  wouldn't  have  to  learn  another  language.  I  do 
loathe  irregular  verbs." 

"Well,  there's  a  fair  chance  that  the  verbs  wouldn't 


THE  OLD  PARTY  SURPRISES  HIS  AUNT  41 

be  the  only  irregular  things  you'd  run  across,  if  you 
married  a  furrin  nobleman,"  Mrs.  Bagby  said  encourag- 
ingly. "As  far  as  I  can  find  out  from  the  divorce  court 
reports  you  can  get  just  as  many  interesting  ideas  on 
matrimony  in  English  as  you  can  in  any  of  the  dago  lan- 
guages. You'd  better  stick  to  the  Yale  cricket  team, 
girls.  If  they  was  a  good,  old-fashioned  baseball  team, 
they'd  be  just  that  much  better." 

Amelia  dissented  promptly.  "Oh,  I  think  cricket's 
perfectly  fine.  Tommy's  going  to  play  polo  in  England, 
too.  He's  got  his  ponies  along.  He  says  he'll  get  us 
cards  for  Hurlingham  and  Ranelagh.  They're  swell 
polo  places.  Isn't  it  just  the  luckiest  thing,  Miss  Carewe  ? 
We're  going  down  to  get  some  of  our  chocolates." 

"You  may  tell  Mr.  Shallcross  to  introduce  his  friends 
to  your  chaperon,"  Miss  Carewe  said,  with  a  certain 
genial  firmness  in  which  the  girls  of  the  Ryder  School 
had  always  recognized  finality.  "I'll  see  about  their 
meeting  you  afterward." 

Consternation  appeared  on  the  two  girlish  faces. 

"Why,  Miss  Carewe,"  remonstrated  Amelia,  "that's 
just  like  school.  People  don't  have  to  be  so  awfully  formal 
on  ships.  When  Bessie  Allen  went  over,  everybody 
came  right  up  and  spoke  to  her.  She  had  a  perfectly 
grand  time.  Two  men  proposed  to  her,  the  fifth  day 
out.  She  says  when  she  goes  again  she's  going  to  take 
a  slow  boat.  She  doesn't  like  these  ocean  greyhounds 


42  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

a  bit.  Six  days  is  such  a  short  time  —  but  I  think  two 
in  five  days  is  pretty  good,  don't  you  ?" 

"My  dear,"  Miss  Carewe  had  risen  to  her  feet  and 
now  tucked  a  friendly  arm  through  Amelia's,  "I've  seen 
too  many  ill-bred  American  girls  making  themselves  com- 
mon and  ridiculous  on  board  ship  to  be  willing  that  my 
two  nice  girls  should  imitate  them.  "Of  course,  if 
you  want  to  be  taken  for  saloon-keeper's  daughters 
from  Chicago  — 

"Mercy,  no;  but  Bessie  — 

"Bessie  made  a  mistake.  I'm  here  to  keep  you  from 
making  mistakes." 

"And  there's  the  Count.  There  won't  be  any  one  to 
introduce  him." 

"If  he  wants  an  introduction,  he'll  find  a  way  to  get 
one." 

"Tommy  might  offer  him  a  cigar  or  a  drink  or  something 
and  get  acquainted  —  only  Tommy  doesn't  know  any 
real  language  —  just  college  slang.  A  French  count 
couldn't  understand  that." 

Mrs.  Bagby  looked  up  from  her  book. 

"I  sh'd  say,"  she  remarked,  in  her  dry,  Hoosier  tones, 
"that  an  invitation  to  drink  would  be  sort  of  Esperanto. 
I  guess  it'd  be  understood  in  'most  any  language." 

Amelia  took  her  quite  seriously. 

"Oh,  do  you  think  so ?  Well,  of  course,  a  cigar  would 
be  nicer.  Tommy  oughtn't  to  drink  anything  himself 


THE  OLD  PARTY  SURPRISES  HIS  AUNT  43 

but  'most  everybody  does  abroad  and  I  guess  one  drink 
wouldn't  make  a  French  count  any  worse  than  he  is 
anyway.  I'll  tell  Tommy  to  try  a  cigar  first,  though." 

"Come  along  and  get  those  chocolates.  You  had 
pounds  and  pounds  sent  to  you,  didn't  you?"  Belinda 
had  learned  that  it  was  easier  to  divert  a  schoolgirl's 
attention  than  to  appeal  to  her  reason.  Amelia  rose  to 
the  bait. 

"Arthur  Bentley  sent  me  ten  pounds!  Isn't  he  the 
extravagant  wretch?  He'll  be  perfectly  furious  when 
he  finds  out  that  Tommy  was  on  the  boat.  I  must  write 
him  a  postal.  Oh,  I  haven't  written  any  of  my  postals. 
I've  promised  loads.  Where's  the  writing  room,  Miss 
Carewe  ?  I  mustn't  forget  to " 

Her  voice  floated  back  faintly,  as  girls  and  chaperon 
disappeared  through  an  open  door.  Mrs.  Bagby  smiled 
at  Mrs.  Nicholson  over  her  spectacles.  "Miss  Carewe 's 
got  her  work  cut  out  for  her  with  that  one,"  she  said. 
"The  other  girl  is  quiet  and  teachable  enough,  but 
this  Amelia  just  naturally  gravitates  toward  trouble." 

Mrs.  Nicholson  smiled  too,  but  her  smile  was  of  different 
quality  —  less  critical,  more  tolerant. 

"Youth,  my  dear  Mrs.  Bagby,  youth!  Girls  were 
different  when  I  was  young,  but  who  knows  whether  it 
isn't  just  as  well  to  allow  the  foolishness  to  come  to  the 
surface  —  on  the  safety  valve  principle,  you  know.  We 
dreamed  a  good  deal  about  boys  in  my  day  and  talked 


44  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

about  them  comparatively  little,  but  three  of  my  dear 
friends  eloped  before  they  were  eighteen  —  girls  from 
excellent  families.  Two  of  them  were  very  unhappy 
later.  It  might  have  been  better  if  they  had  talked  more 
foolishness  and  dreamed  less." 

Mrs.  Bagby  nodded. 

"I  suppose  I  don't  know  much  about  it,"  she  said, 
with  a  retrospective  look  in  her  unbeautiful,  likeable 
face.  "There  never  was  much  romance  along  my  path 
for  me  to  go  squashing  through.  If  there  had  been  maybe 
I'd  a-splashed  around  in  it  as  much  as  anybody,  but 
there  were  always  younger  children  and  I  was  kept  mighty 
busy  helping  ma.  There  wasn't  any  time  for  boys  while 
I  was  schoolgirl  age,  and  then  when  I  got  out  of  school, 
there  wasn't  any  boys.  That  is,  none  to  count;  I  just 
married  one  of  the  neighbours'  boys  because  it  was  mar- 
rying time  and  he  was  there.  Not  but  what  Jonas  was 
a  good  husband.  He  was  good,  according  to  his  lights, 
and  we  was  happy  —  as  married  folks  go.  There  wasn't 
never  any  words  between  us.  A  farmer  and  his  wife 
don't  see  very  much  of  each  other  except  in  the  winter, 
'n*  in  the  evenings  Jonas  was  mostly  asleep.  That's 
why  I  read  such  a  lot  of  books.  Somebody  gave  us  a 
library  of  travel  when  we  was  married  and  I  got  such 
a  taste  for  them  books,  I  could  hardly  wait  to  get  done 
my  work  before  I'd  settle  down  to  reading  about  China 
or  Rooshia  or  some  other  heathen  country.  If  more 


THE  OLD  PARTY  SURPRISES  HIS  AUNT    45 

farmers  wives  'd  get  worked  up  over  reading  about  furrin 
parts,  the  insane  asylums  wouldn't  be  so  full  of  them. 
It  gives  you  something  to  think  about,  especially  where 
there  ain't  any  children.  Jonas  thought  I  was  plumb 
silly  to  be  stuffing  my  head  with  nonsense  about  countries 
outside  of  Indiana.  He  allowed  that  some  day  he'd 
like  to  go  up  to  Indianapolis  and  see  the  State  House, 
but  he  wasn't  very  partickler  even  about  doing  that,  an* 
he  couldn't  see  what  I'd  want  to  go  gallivantin'  around  for. 

"He  worked  hard  on  that  farm,  Jonas  did.  So  did 
I,  but  women  folks  don't  get  much  credit  for  their  share 
of  farm  work.  Jonas  was  terrible  saving,  too.  He  didn't 
hold  with  buying  a  blessed  thing  we  could  live  without. 
Maybe  he'd  have  lived  longer  if  he'd  spent  a  little  more 
and  worked  a  little  less  as  he  went  along,  but  he  couldn't 
see  it  that  way,  and  last  winter  he  took  cold  —  he  wouldn't 
have  a  doctor  at  first.  Said  it  was  just  throwing  money 
in  the  fire;  so  he  took  some  patent  medicine  for  rheu- 
matism that  we  happened  to  have  in  the  house  and  the 
first  thing  we  knew  he  was  so  sick  the  doctor  couldn't 
do  anything  for  him." 

Mrs.  Nicholson's  gentle  face  was  tremulous  with  sym- 
pathy, but  Mrs.  Bagby  went  on  cheerfully. 

"After  the  funeral,  I  found  there  was  a  good  deal 
more  money  than  I'd  had  any  idea  of,  so  I  just  sold  the 
farm  and  set  out  to  see  some  of  them  travel  sights.  Seems 
kind  of  mean  to  be  doing  it  with  Jonas's  money,  don't 


46  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

it  ?     He  was   close,  Jonas  was  —  and   he   wasn't   senti- 
mental, not  even  when  he  was  courting." 

The  dainty  old  lady  with  the  soft  white  hair  and  the 
rose-leaf  cheeks  and  the  smiling  eyes,  in  which  the  ghost 
of  girlhood  lingered,  looked  at  the  sturdy  old  lady  with 
the  scant  sandy  locks,  the  leathery,  wrinkled,  sensible 
face  and  the  frank,  shrewd  eyes  into  which  no  golden 
memories  brought  a  cheating  glow  of  youth.  There  was 
distress  upon  the  gentle,  delicate  face  of  the  woman  who 
had  been  loved  and  cherished;  the  vague  distress  of  one 
suddenly  confronted  by  the  fact  that  all  the  world  is  not 
attuned  to  beauty.  Compared  with  Mrs.  Nicholson's 
own  love  story,  this  bald,  suggestive  history  of  Mrs.  Bagby's 
loomed  drearily  tragic;  and  yet  Mrs.  Bagby  was  no  tragic 
figure  and  would  have  been  blankly  amazed  had  she 
fathomed  the  passionate  pity  in  the  heart  of  the  little 
woman  beside  her.  Personally,  she  regarded  herself 
as  distinctly  fortunate.  Matrimonial  blessedness  is  very 
much  a  matter  of  ideals  and  the  number  of  women  who 
consider  themselves  happily  married  because  their  hus- 
bands do  not  quarrel  or  drink  is  considerably  larger  than 
that  of  the  women  whose  married  life  is  pure  poetic 
rhapsody. 


CHAPTER  FOUR 

AN     AGREEABLE     FRENCHMAN     DISARRANGES    CERTAIN 
WELL-LAID    PLANS 

A  STIFF  breeze  and  a  high  sea  are  foes  to  sentiment, 
and  both  were  awaiting  the  Adriatic  outside  the  Hook. 
Mrs.  Bagby  abandoned  retrospection  in  favour  of  lively 
and  disturbing  anticipation.  Mrs.  Nicholson  forgot  her 
companion's  barren  life  and  her  own  rose-hued  romance 
in  fluttering  effort  to  face  a  present  crisis.  Belinda  com- 
ing up  on  deck  found  the  two  women  huddled  miserably 
under  their  steamer  rugs  and  looking  oddly  alike.  Pink 
and  white  face  and  sallow  face  were  both  sicklied  o'er 
with  a  faint  green.  Neat  turban  and  fore-and-aft  cap 
were  set  at  similar  rakish  angles.  Seasickness  is  the 
great  leveller.  A  bird's-eye  view  of  the  deck  revealed 
long  lines  of  chairs  occupied  by  what  appeared  to  be 
heaps  of  old  clothes.  Unfeeling  favourites  of  the  gods 
tramped  up  and  down  past  their  afflicted  fellow-voyagers, 
beaming  exultantly,  glorying  in  their  own  immunity. 
Never  was  a  soul  so  great  that  it  could  genuinely  and 
painfully  sympathize  with  a  seasickness  it  did  not  share. 
"Why,  my  dears!  You/re  not  sick  already?"  queried 

47 


48  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

Miss  Carewe  with  conspicuous  lack  of  the  tact  for  which 
she  was  famous.  The  two  women  did  not  show  their 
resentment  in  words,  but  their  reproachful  eyes  spoke 
volumes  and  Belinda  awoke  to  her  responsibilities. 

"Oh,  I'm  so  dreadfully  sorry.  I'll  get  you  some  lemons. 
No  ?  Well,  maybe  a  little  champagne  —  no,  of  course 
not,  if  you  feel  that  way  about  it.  You'll  feel  better 
before  long  if  you  keep  quiet." 

Utter  unbelief  was  written  on  the  two  miserable  faces. 

"If  I  could  get  to  bed,"  murmured  Mrs.  Nicholson 
feebly. 

"I'd  stay  in  the  fresh  air  if  I  could,"  urged  Belinda. 
"It  doesn't  last,  you  know.  That's  the  only  good 
thing  about  it.  You'll  feel  perfectly  fine  when  it's 
all  over." 

"I'd  hate  to  be  rude  to  you  Miss  Carewe,"  said  Mrs. 
Bagby  with  a  grim  twinkle  in  her  eyes,  "but  if  you  make 
many  more  remarks  of  that  encouraging  sort,  I'll  forget 
my  manners.  I  think  I'm  going  to  part  with  them 
anyway." 

Belinda  changed  the  subject. 

"Where  are  Mr.  and  Miss  Perkins?"  she  asked. 

"They've  gone  down  and  so  far  as  I  know  they're 
the  only  things  travelling  in  that  direction."  Mrs.  Bagby 
had  the  air  of  one  who  jests  at  the  cannon's  mouth. 

"Don't  you  ever  get  seasick?"  she  asked  with  a  touch 
of  resentment. 


A  FRENCHMAN   DISARRANGES  PLANS      49 

"Never."  The  cheerful  promptness  of  the  answer 
evidently  jarred  upon  the  sufferer's  nerves. 

"Well,  go  away,"  she  commanded  in  a  tone  of  deep 
disgust.  "  Go  away  and  look  well  some  place  else.  You 
aggravate  me." 

She  pulled  her  rug  up  around  her  head,  and  Belinda, 
obeying  orders,  walked  briskly  down  the  deck.  Lean- 
ing over  the  railing  to  look  at  the  steerage  crowd  she 
was  joined  by  Mr.  Courtney.  Even  before  she  looked 
up  and  before  he  spoke  she  knew  who  it  was  and  checked 
a  swift  impulse  to  turn  away.  There  was  no  use  in 
dodging  a  man  who  was  travelling  in  one's  own  party. 
Resignation  was  the  only  possible  attitude. 

"Corking  day  for  a  starter,  isn't  it?"  the  unwelcome 
He  remarked  genially.  "Everybody  feeling  fit  in  our 
crowd?" 

"Our!"  Belinda  resented  the  bracketing  and  admitted 
the  accuracy  of  it. 

"The  girls  are  all  right,  but  your  aunt  and  Mrs.  Bagby 
and  the  Perkins  are  feeling  rather  wretched." 

"Aunt  Florilla?     That's  too  bad.     Is  she  in  bed?" 

"No;  I  advised  her  to  stick  it  out  on  deck  for  a  while." 

"That's  right.  I'll  go  and  have  a  look  at  her.  No 
use  asking  you  whether  you're  a  good  sailor.  You  look 
the  part.  Oh,  I  say,  Miss  Carewe,  what's  the  matter?" 

A  wave  of  greenish  pallor  had  swept  over  her  face. 
A  sudden  sickly  horror  dawned  in  her  eyes.  She  started 


50  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

to  hurry  away,  then  stopped  and  clutched  the  arm  of  the 
Unpleasant  Party.  The  deck  billowed  under  her,  the 
sky  shut  in  upon  her,  the  sea  went  over  her.  She  clung 
desperately  to  John  Courtney.  She  even  allowed  her 
reeling  head  to  drop  upon  his  coat  collar.  If  he  had 
been  one  of  the  stokers  she  would  have  done  the  same. 
One  second  of  seasickness  can  upset  the  conventions  of 
a  lifetime  and  there  was  no  room  for  personal  pique 
and  prejudices  in  this  new  seething,  chaotic,  nightmare 
world. 

Mr.  Courtney  promptly  put  his  arm  around  her  and 
deposited  her  in  the  nearest  vacant  chair.  The  episode 
wakened  not  even  a  mild  flutter  of  interest  in  the  occu- 
pants of  the  neighbouring  chairs.  They  had  troubles 
of  their  own. 

"I  never  knew  it  was  like  this,"  groaned  Belinda. 
Her  voice  had  a  dying  fall  and  the  eyes  she  turned  up 
toward  the  big  man  who  leaned  over  her  were  utterly 
forlorn. 

"I've  laughed  at  it!"  she  added  penitently. 

The  man  smiled  encouragingly. 

"It  won't  last,"  he  began;  "you'll  feel  fine  when  -    — " 

She  waved  a  limp,  protesting  hand  at  him. 

"Go  away.  Go  away.  I  know  how  Mrs.  Bagby  felt 
about  it  now.  I  wish  I'd  sent  those  poor  things  down 
to  their  berths.  That's  the  place  for  anybody  who's 
seasick." 


A  FRENCHMAN  DISARRANGES  PLANS       51 

"No  really,  Miss  Carewe,  the  fresh  air  — 

"I  loathe  fresh  air.  I  wouldn't  stay  here  a  minute 
if  I  could  walk.  U-g-h!" 

A  long  shudder  swept  over  her.  When  it  passed  she 
opened  her  eyes  again. 

"Go  and  see  about  them.  Please  do.  They  may 
be  dead.  I  didn't  have  the  faintest  idea  they  were  feel- 
ing this  way.  Get  the  deck  steward  for  them  —  and 
our  stewardess  —  and  the  doctor.  It  would  be  awful 
if  anything  should  happen  to  them." 

"  Couldn't  you  come  along  to  your  own  chair  ?  " 

She  made  a  gesture  writh  both  hands,  as  though  push- 
ing him  away. 

"All  I  want  is  to  be  let  alone  —  to  —  be  —  let  — 
completely  —  alone  —  until  -  -  I  —  am  —  dead !  But 
they've  got  to  be  personally  conducted.  They've  paid 
for  it." 

She  collapsed  in  a  despairing  heap,  and  the  man, 
heroically  suppressing  a  grin,  pulled  off  his  long  ulster 
and  threw  it  over  her. 

"I'll  send  you  a  rug.  Don't  worry  about  Aunt  Flo- 
rilla  and  Mrs.  Bagby.  I'll  fix  them  up." 

She  did  not  thank  him.  She  was  not  grateful  to  him. 
She  didn't  even  dislike  him.  He  was  a  thing  in  a  bad 
dream.  Only  seasickness  was  real.  The  deck  steward 
came  with  the  rug  at  an  opportune  moment  when  there 
was  a  slight  cessation  of  hostilities,  and  with  his  help 


52  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

Belinda  made  her  way  to  her  stateroom  where  she  was 
handed  over  to  the  tender  mercies  of  a  stern  English 
stewardess  and  where  she  lay  in  her  berth  for  forty-eight 
hours,  visited  at  intervals  by  Laura  and  May  and  Amelia, 
who  reported  Mrs.  Bagby  on  deck  the  second  morning 
Mrs.  Nicholson,  comfortable  in  her  stateroom  but  unambi- 
tious, the  Perkinses  lost  to  sight  and  Mr.  Courtney 
"perfectly  dandy." 

As  the  personal  conductor's  physical  discomfort 
decreased  her  mental  discomfort  grew  apace.  She  had 
started  out  by  flat  failure.  Probably  she  would  keep 
it  up.  She  had  literally  thrown  herself  into  the  Unpleas- 
ant Party's  arms  and  turned  her  duties  over  to  him. 
Heaven  alone  knew  what  Amelia  and  Laura  May  were 
doing  on  deck,  unhampered  by  chaperonage.  On  the 
third  morning  of  the  voyage  Belinda,  still  a  trifle  pallid 
and  shaky,  made  her  appearance  on  deck  in  the  wake 
of  the  rug-laden  deck  steward.  Seven  vacant  chairs 
stood  in  line  beyond  the  one  into  which  she  sank;  but 
in  the  offing,  she  caught  a  glimpse  of  Mrs.  Bagby  prome- 
nading with  a  fat  woman  in  a  loud  plaid  coat  and  up  near 
the  bow  a  man  who  looked  like  Mr.  Courtney  was  stand- 
ing with  the  captain  and  another  officer.  As  she  settled 
comfortably  into  a  chair,  Amelia's  clear,  high,  treble 
came  gaily  to  her  ears,  and  a  moment  later  the  girl  herself 
appeared  with  a  man  at  her  heels.  Belinda  took  in  the 
man  at  a  glance  and  inwardly  wondered.  This  was 


A   FRENCHMAN  DISARRANGES  PLANS       53 

certainly  no  member  of  the  Yale  cricket  team  —  this 
handsome  foreign-looking  man  with  the  distinguished 
air  and  the  bold,  smiling  eyes.  The  eyes  were  smiling 
at  Amelia  and  the  girl's  face  was  radiant  with  excitement 
and  elation.  As  she  caught  sight  of  Belinda,  the  radi- 
ance was  suddenly  bedimmed,  but  she  headed  straight 
for  the  chaperon's  chair  and  stopped  in  front  of  it. 

"Miss  Carewe,  this  is  Count  de  Brissac.  Tommy 
introduced  him  yesterday.  He  introduced  all  the  team 
too.  I'd  have  waited,  only  you  know  there  wrasn't  any 
telling  how  long  you  were  going  to  be  sick  and  it  didn't 
seem  as  if  we  ought  to  go  on  missing  all  the  fun." 

Miss  Carewe  laughed  at  the  breathless  confession  and 
apology.  So  did  Count  de  Brissac. 

"I  am  of  the  fun?  Yes?"  he  asked  in  carefully 
spoken  English. 

"  Oh,  you're  great  fun,"  Amelia  assured  him  frankly. 

"  I  am  honoured,"  he  said  gravely,  with  a  profound  bow. 

"All  new  acquaintances  are  a  part  of  the  fun,  Count 
de  Brissac." 

Belinda  was  civil,  but  a  slight  coolness  in  her  tone 
and  manner  offset  Amelia's  exuberant  friendliness. 

"Miss  Bowers  is  feeling  guilty  because  she  has  been 
making  such  acquaintances  without  the  usual  preliminary 
of  the  stranger's  introduction  to  her  chaperon." 

A  shade  of  surprise  flitted  over  the  Count's  expres- 
sive face. 


54  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

"Ah!  You  have  also  then  these  traditions  in  America  ? 
I  had  thought  that  everything  was  of  an  informality 
there,  of  a  freedom;  that  the  young  ladies  were  not  chap- 
eroned." 

"We  have  our  social  classes  and  they  have  their  own 
traditions." 

Miss  Carewe's  tone  might  have  been  read  to  imply 
that  the  Count  had  been  unhappy  in  the  strata  of  Ameri- 
can society  which  he  had  frequented.  Perhaps  she  was 
conscious  of  its  edge,  for  she  added  quickly: 

"But  many  of  our  girls  are  not  chaperoned  carefully 
and  behave  badly  both  at  home  and  abroad,  so  your 
mistake  was  natural  enough.  Only  generalizations  are 
never  safe,  are  they?" 

He  bowed  again,  a  courteous,  deferential,  disarming 
bow,  which  left  Belinda  wondering  why  American  men 
always  bowed  as  though  it  were  a  painful  duty  rather 
than  a  polite  accomplishment. 

"And  now  I  have  met  the  chaperon  and  may  begin 
over  again  ? "  he  asked,  with  a  smile  more  disarming 
than  the  bow.  "  I  may  sit  down  and  become  acquainted 
with  the  chaperon?" 

Amelia  looked  surprised  and  hurt.  This  was  chap- 
eroning raised  to  the  nth  degree;  but,  at  the  moment, 
Laura  and  May  and  four  attendant  youths  in  college 
sweaters  hove  within  sight  and  diverted  her  attention. 

"Going  to  bowl  cricket  on  the  lower  deck.     Come 


A  FRENCHMAN  DISARRANGES  PLANS     55 

along,"  chorussed  the  four  boys,  thereby  showing  a  for- 
giving spirit,  for  the  fickle  Amelia  had  incontinently 
thrown  over  her  more  youthful  admirers  for  the  Count 
as  soon  as  the  latter  had  been  presented. 

She  hesitated,  looked  at  the  titled  one.  He  was  look- 
ing at  Belinda.  Amelia  tossed  her  pretty  head  and  turned 
away,  throwing  a  cool,  "You'll  excuse  me?"  over  her 
shoulders.  It  was  all  very  well  to  be  polite  to  a  chaperon, 
but  one  didn't  have  to  make  eyes  at  her. 

The  Count  turned  and  looked  after  her  as  she  went. 

"Your  American  girls  are  of  an  amazing  prettiness," 
he  said,  "  and  of  a  charm  too.  I  cannot  get  used  to  them. 
They  surprise  me  constantly.  Even  at  so  young  an  age 
they  are  so  confident,  so  self-reliant.  There  is  no  shyness 
and  yet  they  are  so  fresh,  so  ingenuous.  I  admire  them 
extravagantly,  Mademoiselle  Carewe,  and  I  struggle  to 
understand  the  American  point  of  view,  but  that  is  diffi- 
cult for  a  Frenchman.  You  have  ideas  so  quaint  —  that 
in  order  to  meet  one  young  girl,  one  must  first  be  presented 
to  another  young  girl.  Forgive  me  that  I  smile.  The 
chaperon  with  us  is  of  so  different  a  type  —  no  more 
capable.  I  am  sure  of  that,  but  she  —  what  is  it  you 
Americans  say  ?  —  she  looks  the  part. " 

He  was  smiling  so  good-naturedly  that  offended  dignity 
refused  to  come  at  Belinda's  call  and  she  laughed. 

"  I'm  years  older  than  Amelia  and  I've  been  her  teacher 
in  boarding  school  for  three  years,  so  she  is  used  to  think- 


56  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

ing  that  I'm  as  ancient  as  the  Pyramids.  She  would 
be  absolutely  amazed  if  she  should  hear  me  called  a  girl. 
Don't  do  anything  to  undermine  my  authority,  Count  de 
Brissac.  Respect  the  gray  hairs  I  ought  to  have." 

"Ah!  You  have  taught  these  young  ladies?  And 
now  you  take  them  abroad  ?  " 

"I  have  a  party  of  seven." 

"You  have  the  courage  of  a  veteran,  Mademoiselle 
Carewe,  if  not  the  gray  hair  —  but  I  have  seen  only  two 
of  those  young  things." 

"Five  of  the  party  are  grown-ups." 

"What  a  pity!  I  should  like  to  see  seven  such  girls 
together.  It  would  be  to  hear  the  music  of  the  fountain 
of  Immortal  Youth.  Miss  Bowers  is  from  the  South  of 
your  great  country  —  so  she  tells  me." 

"From  Georgia.  If  you  were  an  American  you  would 
know  her  father,  E.  K.  Bowers." 

"Oh,  but  even  a  foreigner  also.  He  is  the  sugar  king. 
It  is  so  they  call  him,  is  it  not?  He  is  a  power,  this 
Monsieur  Bowers  —  and  with  millions.  I  wonder  that 
his  daughter  does  not  travel  en  princesse,  with  a  retinue." 

Belinda  shook  her  head. 

"They  are  very  simple  people.  Nothing  could  per- 
suade Mr.  Bowers  to  cross  the  ocean  himself,  but  he 
was  willing  to  trust  Amelia  to  me.  He  would  amuse 
you.  It  is  only  in  America,  I  fancy,  that  one  finds  just 
such  rough  diamonds." 


A  FRENCHMAN  DISARRANGES  PLANS     57 

But  the  Count's  interest  in  the  Bowers  family  had 
ebbed,  and  the  conversation  shifted  to  other  themes. 
Mrs.  Bagby  took  possession  of  her  chair  and  the  Count 
was  duly  presented. 

"Your  visitation  didn't  last  long,  Mrs.  Bagby,"  said 
Belinda  in  a  congratulatory  tone. 

The  old  lady  chuckled  comfortably. 

"No,  my  dear;  but  it  was  fierce  while  it  lasted.  I 
lay  there  and  thought  that  if  Jonas  grudged  my  using 
his  money  for  travelling,  his  spirit  must  he  plumb  tickled 
to  see  how  I  was  getting  my  come-uppance.  I  sort  of 
repented  not  sticking  to  his  idees;  but  I'm  all  right  now. 
Pretty  sick  yourself,  wa'n't  you  ? " 

"Ghastly  sick,"  Belinda  shuddered  at  the  memory. 
"I'm  desperately  ashamed  of  myself.  Oh,  Mrs.  Nichol- 
son, I'm  so  glad  you  changed  your  mind  and  decided  to 
come  on  deck.  It's  such  a  heavenly  day.  Count  de 
Brissac  will  tuck  you  in.  Allow  me  to  present  him." 

Five  minutes  later  the  Count  enjoyed  the  privilege  of 
tucking  Mr.  Perkins  and  his  sister  into  their  chairs.  He 
made  himself  agreeable  to  all  the  party.  Even  Mrs. 
Bagby  laid  aside  her  prejudice  against  foreigners;  and 
when  Jack  Courtney  arrived  upon  the  scene,  just  ahead 
of  the  bouillon  and  the  sandwiches,  he  found  the  French- 
man sitting  upon  the  foot  of  Miss  Carewe's  chair  and 
entertaining  the  group  with  a  light-hearted  gaiety  that 
had  evidently  proved  infectious. 


58  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

Mr.  Courtney  stared  his  disapproval.  He  had  the 
usual  sweet  tolerance  of  the  American  man  for  the  foreign 
man  of  his  own  class  and  the  customary  fair  and  broad- 
minded  attitude  of  the  Anglo  Saxon  toward  men  of  the 
Latin  races.  All  of  which,  tersely  put,  means  that,  while 
he  could,  by  putting  restraint  upon  himself,  admit  the 
admirable  qualities  of  an  Englishman  or  German,  he 
lumped  all  other  European  men  together  as  "dagoes" 
and  refused  to  believe  that  they  might  ultimately  be 
saved.  Unintelligent,  perhaps,  this  view,  but  emphat- 
ically masculine  American. 

To  behold  one  of  the  despised  outsiders  received, 
figuratively  speaking,  into  the  bosom  of  the  Carewe  party 
was  trying  to  the  six  foot  two  inches  of  American 
masculinity.  To  find  him  seated  on  the  foot  of  Miss 
Carewe's  chair  and  receiving  from  her  such  approving 
smiles  as  Jack  in  his  optimistic  moments  had  dreamed 
of  winning  for  himself  was  the  nature  of  an  un- 
pleasant shock. 

Mr.  Courtney  acknowledged  introduction  to  Count  de 
Brissac  with  an  air  of  surly  disapproval.  The  Count 
was  courteously  genial,  and  by  demonstrating  the  superi- 
ority of  his  manners  justified  the  American's  instantaneous 
dislike.  There  is  no  one  we  hate  so  cordially  as  the  one 
to  whom  we  have  been  inexcusably  rude. 

"Do  you  care  to  walk,  Aunt  Florilla?"  the  dutiful 
nephew  asked  stiffly. 


A  FRENCHMAN  DISARRANGES  PLANS       59 

"Why  no,  Jack  dear.  The  Count  has  been  telling 
us  the  most  delightful  things  about  the  peasant  festivals 
in  his  country.  Sit  down,  dear.  You'll  be  so  amused." 

Jack  sat  down  but  he  was  not  amused. 

The  fellow  talked  well.  He  admitted  that.  "Too 
well,"  he  added.  "Actors,  all  of  them,"  he  thought 
contemptuously,  as  he  watched  the  eloquent  gestures, 
the  vivid  play  of  facial  expression.  That  the  dramatic 
talent  might  be  a  gift  for  which  to  thank  the  gods  did 
not  enter  into  his  Anglo  Saxon  conception.  To  the 
average  Englishman,  a  display  of  feeling  is  indecent. 
To  the  average  American  it  is  merely  ridiculous. 
Jack  found  Count  de  Brissac  ridiculous,  or  at  least  he 
tried  to  believe  that  he  did;  but  in  his  heart  lurked  an 
annoying  conviction  that  women  —  even  sensible  women 
—  might  find  the  man  attractive.  Certainly  Miss  Carewe 
was  hanging  upon  his  words,  her  mobile  face  reflecting 
the  moods  that  flashed  across  his,  her  eyes  alight  with 
interest.  The  whole  party  was  fascinated.  Even  Mr. 
Perkins  had  forgotten  to  be  fretful  and  Miss  Perkins 
had  not  rearranged  his  pillows  within  ten  minutes. 

Jack  lay  back  in  his  chair,  gloom  sitting  heavily  upon 
his  brow,  and  eyed  the  raconteur.  Yes,  the  fellow  cer- 
tainly was  good  looking  in  a  dago  way;  no  whipper  snapper 
but  big,  lean,  sinewy,  alert,  a  man  with  poise  of  body 
and  brain.  His  teeth  were  too  white  and  his  eyes  were 
too  black  to  suit  Mr.  Courtney's  fastidious  taste;  and 


60  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

as  for  the  way  he  wore  his  moustache  —  no  man  with  a 
moustache  like  that  could  be  trusted. 

The  luncheon  bugle  sounded  and  the  party  divided 
itself  into  those  who  would  go  below  and  those  for  whom 
discretion  was  still  the  better  part  of  valour.  The  Count 
went  salon-ward  at  Belinda's  side.  Jack  Courtney  fol- 
lowed with  Mrs.  Bagby.  He  had  shed  his  scowl  and  was 
outwardly  amiable,  but  in  his  soul  there  was  a  profound 
disgust;  for  though  his  scenario  had  been  so  cleverly 
mapped  out,  his  prophetic  soul  whispered  to  him  that 
the  stage  management  of  the  play  was  not  to  be  left  in 
his  hands. 

The  days  passed  as  days  do  pass  on  an  Atlantic  liner 
when  the  clerk  of  the  weather  is  in  friendly  mood.  Grad- 
ually the  limp  heaps  of  old  clothes  resolved  themselves 
into  vertebrate  human  beings,  some  of  them  presentable, 
a  few  even  attractive.  Acquaintances  were  made,  cliques 
were  formed,  flirtations  progressed  briskly.  The  women 
decided  that  there  was  something  queer  about  the  blond 
widow  and  the  affair  between  the  doctor  and  the  San 
Francisco  divorcee  gave  rise  to  furious  gossip.  Every- 
body knew  that  the  girl  in  the  red  ulster  was  going  to 
Paris  for  her  trousseau  and  that  the  quiet  man  with  the 
thin  lips  had  taken  $500  away  from  little  Bobby  Burton 
at  poker  and  was  suspected  of  being  a  professional  card 
sharp.  Considerable  money  changed  hands  on  the  pools 
and  the  concert  proved  a  success.  Amelia  and  Laura 


A  FRENCHMAN  DISARRANGES  PLANS       Gl 

May  were  easily  the  belles  aboard  ship,  though  their 
chaperon  might  have  gone,  as  did  they,  surrounded  by 
a  crowd  of  attendant  swains,  if  she  had  not  stuck  loyally 
and  conscientiously  to  her  role  of  personal  conductor. 
She  read  to  Mrs.  Nicholson,  she  walked  with  Mrs.  Bagby, 
she  ran  errands  for  Mr.  Perkins,  she  waved  the  banner 
of  the  proprieties  in  the  faces  of  Amelia's  and  Laura's 
admirers. 

When,  occasionally  she  did  relax  and  allow  herself 
an  hour  or  two  off  duty,  Count  de  Brissac  was  usually 
to  be  found  at  her  side,  though  a  professor  from  Har- 
vard and  a  civil  engineer  from  Mexico  and  a  young 
millionaire  from  Denver  and  an  elderly  English  diplomat 
and  a  fiery  little  mine  owner  from  Brazil  contested  his 
claim.  As  for  Jack  Courtney,  he  was  apparently  not 
in  the  running.  Miss  Carewe  was  pleasant  to  him  in 
an  indifferent,  non-committal  way,  but  all  effort  he  made 
to  secure  time  alone  with  her  proved  futile;  and,  piqued, 
he  fell  back  upon  the  society  in  the  smoking  room,  and  a 
dashing  young  woman  from  Kentucky.  Occasionally, 
too,  he  devoted  himself  to  Amelia  and  Laura  May,  with 
an  elder  brotherly  air  to  which  they  took  violent  exception 
because  of  its  fraternal  tone. 

"  I  don't  want  a  man  like  that  to  adopt  me ! "  complained 
Amelia  bitterly,  whenever  she  and  Laura  May  talked 
things  over.  "He's  perfectly  gorgeous  and  it  seems  like 
the  finger  of  fate,  his  being  right  in  our  owrn  party;  but  to 


62  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

see  the  way  he  treats  us,  anybody 'd  think  he'd  just  been 
brought  along  to  wheel  our  perambulators.  It  makes 
me  sick.  Funny  he  and  Miss  Carewe  don't  like  each 
other,  isn't  it?"  And  Laura  May  thought  it  was  funny. 

When  Count  de  Brissac  was  not  monopolizing  Miss 
Carewe  or  helping  her  to  amuse  her  flock  he  had  a  habit 
of  seeking  Amelia's  society. 

"She  amuses  me  —  but  intensely,"  he  said  to  Belinda. 
"I  have  seen  nothing  so  young  and  yet  so  old.  And  her 
talk!  There  is  only  Monsieur  Tommy  whose  language 
is  more  picturesque.  I  am  enjoying  this  encounter  with 
the  young  girl  of  America,  Miss  Carewe.  It  is  quite 
new,  quite  refreshing." 

Often  he  repeated  whole  conversations  between  Amelia 
and  himself  —  conversations  irresistibly  funny  in  his 
rendering,  and  his  utter  frankness  concerning  the  girl 
set  her  chaperon's  mind  at  rest  in  regard  to  certain  after- 
noons tete-a-tete  and  moonlight  strolls.  The  Count  was 
too  fascinating  a  wolf  to  be  turned  loose  among  unsophis- 
ticated lambs.  Belinda  realized  that;  but  she  wras  reas- 
sured by  the  fact  that  most  of  Amelia's  time  was  given 
to  callow  youth  from  the  various  educational  centres  of  her 
native  land,  Yale,  as  usual,  leading,  though  hard  pressed 
by  Princeton  and  frequently  demoralized  by  the  brilliant 
side-plays  of  an  irrepressible  lad  from  Williams. 

Personally,  Miss  Carewe  had  no  fear  of  wolves,  not 
even  when  they  looked  at  her  with  eloquent  eyes  and 


A  FRENCHMAN  DISARRANGES  PLANS     63 

talked  subtle  flattery  in  fluent,  if  over-precise,  English. 
A  young  woman  who  has  the  tickets  and  luggage  of  seven 
pilgrims  in  her  charge  cannot  afford  to  trifle  with  any 
feeling  less  serious  than  that  of  responsibility.  Moreover, 
eye  eloquence  and  flattery  were  not  novelties  to  Belinda 
and  left  her  undisturbed. 

Perhaps  she  did  encourage  the  Count.  Wherever 
two  or  three  women  were  gathered  together  upon  the 
boat  a  resolution  was  passed  setting  forth  the  fact  that 
she  did.  But  on  the  other  hand,  when  a  young  woman 
has  been  endowed  by  nature  with  absurdly  long  eye- 
lashes and  a  smile  spontaneous  and  dimple-haunted, 
it  is  difficult  to  decide  where  involuntary  provocation 
ends  and  deliberate  encouragement  begins.  Belinda 
did  smile  and  look  down,  but  these  phenomena  are  not, 
of  themselves,  prima  facie  evidence  of  guilt,  though 
Mr.  John  Courtney  was  pleased  to  regard  them  in 
that  light. 

She  had  never  bothered  about  showing  him  her  eye- 
lashes. When  he  talked  to  her,  she  looked  through  him, 
over  him,  around  him.  Occasionally  she  even  looked 
at  him  in  a  distressingly  business-like,  impersonal  way, 
but  nothing  he  had  ever  said  had  brought  that  droop  of 
the  lashes  and  that  swift  little  smile.  To  be  sure,  he  had 
never  been  able  to  get  beyond  Shakespeare  and  the  musi- 
cal glasses  in  conversation  with  her.  Scheme  as  he  would, 
he  never  succeeded  in  being  alone  with  her.  Not  that 


64  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

she  avoided  him.  She  was  always  frankly,  cheerfully 
civil.  He  was  one  of  her  party  and  civility,  even  a  certain 
cordiality,  was  in  the  bond;  but  as  for  any  relation  more 
personal  —  she  apparently  did  not  even  recognize  the 
possibility  of  such  a  thing,  and  the  personally  conducted 
young  man  alternated  twixt  gloom  and  recklessness, 
twixt  scowling  loneliness  and  brazen  flirtation  with  the 
Kentucky  brunette.  Even  his  Aunt  Florilla  realized 
vaguely  that  something  was  wrong  with  him,  though  in 
devotion  to  her  he  never  failed. 

"I  don't  think  the  sea  agrees  with  Jack,"  she  confided 
to  Mrs.  Bagby.  "Of  course,  he  won't  admit  it  but  I've 
an  idea  he's  not  quite  comfortable  —  not  actually  sea- 
sick, you  know,  but  just  a  little  stirred  up." 

"It  does  look  that  way,"  admitted  Mrs.  Bagby,  with 
an  odd  flickering  smile  in  her  old  eyes.  For  a  woman 
of  limited  worldly  experience,  Mrs.  Bagby  had  an  amaz- 
ingly accurate  fashion  of  summing  up  a  situation,  but 
she  knew  how  to  hold  her  tongue. 

"  Do  you  know,  I'm  quite  disappointed,"  Mrs.  Nicholson 
went  on  in  her  gentle  voice.  "  I  had  thought  that  Miss 
Carewe  and  Jack  would  enjoy  each  other  so  much.  She's 
very  pretty  and  Jack  always  liked  pretty  girls;  and  I've 
been  told  he  was  really  quite  popular  with  the  ladies. 
Mrs.  Fothergill  said  the  women  ran  after  him.  That's 
a  very  coarse  way  of  putting  it.  I'd  hate  to  think  women 
would  so  far  forget  their  dignity.  It  wouldn't  have  been 


A  FRENCHMAN  DISARRANGES  PLANS      65 

possible  in  my  day  —  but  Mrs.  Fothergill  ought  to  know. 
She's  quite  a  social  leader  in  New  York." 

"They  might  run  faster  with  less  excuse,"  commented 
Mrs.  Bagby,  as  she  watched  the  Pied  Piper  in  question 
come  strolling  along  the  deck. 

"  Well,  Miss  Carewe  doesn't  appear  impressed."  Mrs. 
Nicholson's  tone  was  distressed,  even  faintly  piqued. 
"  It  doesn't  seem  natural  for  a  young  lady  to  be  so  utterly 
indifferent  to  a  nice  looking  young  man  like  Jack,  but 
perhaps  it's  just  as  well.  He  doesn't  admire  her  at  all. 
Not  that  he  says  anything  disagreeable  about  her.  He 
wouldn't  do  that  for  fear  of  hurting  my  feelings  and 
making  me  uncomfortable;  but  he  just  shuts  his  mouth 
tight  and  looks  like  the  Courtneys  when  I  talk  about 
her.  The  Courtneys  were  a  very  proud,  critical  family, 
my  dear." 

Mrs.  Bagby,  still  watching  the  approaching  young 
man,  saw  a  sudden  change  in  his  face  as  he  passed 
a  man  and  a  girl  who  were  leaning  on  the  rail 
side  by  side.  The  cheerful  smile  faded  swiftly  from 
his  lips  and  eyes.  His  brows  narrowed,  his  mouth  shut 
like  a  trap. 

"Had  ugly  dispositions,  hadn't  they?"  the  old  lady 
remarked  cheerfully. 

"Beg  pardon?"  Mrs.  Nicholson's  thoughts  had  run 
on  ahead. 

"Oh,  yes;  I  see.     The  Courtneys?    Well,  not  ugly 


66  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

dispositions,  but  they  are  masterful.  They  dislike  being 
crossed." 

"  I  can  believe  it,"  said  Mrs.  Bagby.  The  sulky  back 
of  young  Mr.  Courtney  disappeared  through  the  smok- 
ing-room door. 

Meanwhile,  Belinda  had  watched  the  sunlit  sky  and 
sea,  unconscious  of  the  passing  storm.  The  handsome 
Frenchman,  so  voluble  upon  occasion,  had  the  rare  gift 
of  an  eloquent  silence;  but  he  looked  at  the  girl  beside 
him  more  constantly  than  at  the  tumbling  waves  and 
the  expression  on  his  face  was  an  odd  one  in  which  ardour 
and  cynicism  warred.  She  was  bewitching,  this  little 
Yankee  school  teacher.  He  had  known  many  women, 
in  many  lands,  but  never  one  just  like  this  one  —  never 
one  with  such  clear,  honest  eyes  under  such  seductive 
lashes,  and  above  such  a  smiling  provocative  mouth; 
never  one  with  so  firmly  moulded  a  chin,  punctuated  by 
so  incongruous  a  dimple;  never  one  so  irresponsibly  gay, 
so  serenely  well-poised;  so  appealing,  so  self-reliant. 

He  knew  the  rules  of  the  game  for  a  man  and  a  maid. 
None  better.  But  ordinary  rules  do  not  apply  to  human 
paradoxes  and  he  was  too  clever  a  man  not  to  recognize 
the  exception  when  it  confronted  him.  He  brushed 
the  dust  of  years  and  forge tfulness  from  a  host  of  past 
love  affairs  in  a  search  for  some  clue  to  this  feminine  type, 
but  experience  failed  him.  She  was  coquette  to  her 
finger- tips,  the  little  Carewe;  but  so  breezily,  light- heart- 


A  FRENCHMAN  DISARRANGES  PLANS     67 

edly  coquette  and  with  such  a  fund  of  common  sense 
beneath  the  coquetry.  De  Brissac  had  never  been  afraid 
of  a  woman  before.  He  was  a  trifle  afraid  of  Belinda 
Carewe  —  perhaps  because  when  with  her  he  was  more 
than  a  trifle  afraid  of  himself. 

Those  old  love  affairs  and  others  not  so  old — Oh, 
well,  one  played  at  lo've  for  many  different  reasons.  The 
candle  was  usually  worth  the  game,  but  if  one  should 
stop  playing,  should  take  this  matter  of  love  seriously  - 
he  shrugged  his  shoulders.  He,  Bertrand  de  Brissac, 
at  his  age,  to  fall  in  love  with  a  girl  whose  eyes  were  wells 
of  purity  and  whose  fortune  was  her  face!  Imbecile! 
And  yet — and  yet —  -  A  loose  strand  of  sunny  brown  hair 
escaped  from  the  chiffon  veil  that  was  tied  snugly  over 
the  pretty,  turbaned  head  so  near  his.  It  fluttered  in 
the  wind.  For  an  instant  it  brushed  softly  against  his 
face.  He  drew  a  quick  breath,  his  hands  tightened  on 
the  rail,  a  dull  red  surged  into  his  face,  he  leaned  nearer 
to  the  unconscious  girl  by  his  side.  Again  the  teasing 
wind  brought  the  soft  touch  like  a  fleeting  caress.  Down 
in  the  man's  heart  something  new  and  strange  tugged  at 
the  leash  of  his  will.  It  was  not  passion.  Would  that 
be  either  new  or  strange  for  him  ?  There  was  sweet- 
ness in  it,  and  a  hurt,  and  a  swift-rushing  sense 
of  shame. 

She  was  so  dear,  so  heavenly  dear.     If  one    could 
afford 


68  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

Belinda  turned  toward  him  suddenly  and  as  his  eyes 
met  hers,  he  laughed  —  an  unmirthful  little  laugh. 

To  marry  a  girl  with  honest,  challenging  eyes  like 
those!  He  laughed  again  and  the  second  laugh  war, 
more  bitter  than  the  first,  though  it  rang  lightly. 

"What's  the  joke?"  asked  Belinda,  a  sympathetic 
smile  quivering  round  the  corners 'of  her  mouth.  She 
was  always  ready  to  join  in  a  laugh. 

The  Count  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"A  poor  one,  Mademoiselle  Carewe  —  and  on  me. 
You  will  pardon  me  if  I  do  not  tell  it?" 

She  nodded. 

"  Of  course.  Horrid  things,  jokes  on  oneself.  I  loathe 
them.  Sometimes  I  dream  ghastly  ones.  It's  the  worst 
form  of  nightmare." 

"I  do  not  have  dreams." 

There  was  a  curt  finality  in  the  simple  remark  that 
caught  the  girl's  attention. 

"Not  even  day  dreams?"  she  asked  jestingly. 

"Least  of  all  day  dreams." 

"Poor  man;  you  miss  much." 

"I  save  myself  from  more." 

There  was  an  undercurrent  in  his  tone  and  words  that 
puzzled  her,  a  look  in  his  eyes  that  puzzled  her  more,  a 
hint  of  electricity  in  the  air  that  made  her  welcome  any  di- 
version, and  she  stopped  Mr.  Perkins  and  his  sister  as  they 
ambled  along  the  deck  in  conscientious  quest  of  exercise. 


A  FRENCHMAN  DISARRANGES  PLANS      69 

"That's  right,  Mr.  Perkins,"  she  said  with  hearty 
encouragement  in  her  tone.  "You'll  feel  a  lot  better 
if  you  take  a  little  exercise  every  day." 

The  thin,  sharp-featured  face  whose  scholarly  refine- 
ment was  overlaid  with  peevish  discontent  shrank  further 
into  the  high  turned-up  coat  collar. 

"I  don't  know.  I  don't  know.  My  heart  has  been 
acting  very  queerly  since  luncheon,  and  yet  I  ate  very  spar- 
ingly indeed  —  just  a  little  soup  and  some  curry  and  a 
slice  of  toast.  I'm  tiying  some  new  capsules.  A  New 
York  friend  recommended  them.  He  had  the  prescription 
from  a  very  famous  physician  and  they  cured  him  but 
they  don't  seem  to  be  doing  much  for  me  yet.  I  suppose 
mine  is  a  more  complicated  case.  Maria,  I  think  it  must 
be  time  for  my  capsule." 

Miss  Perkins  fumbled  in  her  bag  and  produced  a 
small  box. 

"I'll  run  and  get  the  water,  Martin.  You'll  stay  with 
him  until  I  get  back,  Miss  Carewe?  I  don't  feel  that 
he  ought  to  be  left  alone  a  minute  when  his  heart  is 
behaving  so." 

"Shall  we  walk?"   suggested  the  Count. 

"Oh,  no,  I  couldn't  keep  up  with  you.  This  seasick- 
ness has  upset  me  badly.  I  wouldn't  be  on  my  feet  at 
all  only  Mrs.  Bagby  was  so  insistent.  She  really  didn't 
give  me  any  peace.  She  isn't  a  sympathetic  person  and 
yet  I  rather  like  her.  There's  something  very  genuine 


70  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

about  her  —  and  something  reassuring.  I  seem  to  feel 
better  when  I'm  with  her." 

"She's  a  dear,"  Belinda  said  warmly. 

Mr.  Perkins  looked  dubious. 

"But  not  at  all  sympathetic.  Sympathy  is  a  very 
beautiful  quality  in  a  woman.  A  man  expects  it.  I've 
always  been  accustomed  to  it  in  my  family." 

Miss  Perkins  arrived,  out  of  breath,  apologetic. 

"I'm  afraid  I  was  a  long  time,  Martin,  but  I  hurried 
as  fast  as  I  could." 

The  capsule  was  solemnly  swallowed.  The  sufferer 
resumed  his  creeping  progress,  the  devoted  spinster  trail- 
ing by  his  side;  and  Belinda  laughed  helplessly. 

"Isn't  that  a  nice  hypochondriacal  proposition  for  a 
personal  conductor  to  handle?" 

There  was  despair  in  her  voice  but  a  glint  of  humour 
in  her  eyes. 

The  Count  looked  after  the  retreating  pair. 

"If  the  estimable  sister  would  but  beat  him  once  an 
hour  instead  of  giving  him  a  capsule!  That  would  do 
much  for  him  —  but  I  have  an  idea  that  the  unsympa- 
thetic Madame  Bagby  will  effect  his  cure.  She  is  like 
an  electric  battery  for  him.  She  shocks  him  with 
charges  of  common  sense;  but  when  he  recovers  he  goes 
back  for  more.  I  have  watched  them.  They  are  amus- 
ing, those  two,  and  you  will  have  a  love  affair  on  your 
hands,  Mademoiselle  Carewe.  What  is  it  that  you  call 


A  FRENCHMAN  DISARRANGES  PLANS     71 

the  warm  weather  in  the  auturan  ?  Indian  Summer  ? 
Yes,  that  is  it.  You  will  have  an  Indian  Summer  ro- 
mance." 

"Ridiculous,"  scoffed  Belinda. 

"You'll  see,  dear  lady.  He  is  like  a  human  turtle 
with  his  head  going  into  his  coat  collar  and  out  of  it  as  it 
does,  but  even  a  human  turtle  may  be  loved.  He  is 
probably  quite  unlike  the  lamented  Monsieur  Jonas. 
That  is  in  his  favour.  And  then  these  strong,  sensible 
women  —  they  like  weak  men,  just  as  the  invertebrate 
man  creature  loves  a  strong  woman.  What  would  you  ? 
It  is  a  provision  of  nature." 

"But  — love!" 

The  intolerance  of  youth  was  in  her  tone.  The  man 
smiled. 

"Oh,  not  the  high  fever.  I  grant  you  that.  After 
fifty  one  is  perhaps  immune,  save  in  exceptional  cases. 
A  compensation  for  age,  Mademoiselle.  At  fifty  one  does 
not  make  such  blunders  as  at  twenty-five.  One  takes 
one's  love  placidly  at  fifty.  I  have  still  ten  years  to  wait 
for  security.  One  is  still  blundering  at  forty,  I  find.  I 
await  impatiently  the  end  of  the  next  decade." 

"And  it  is  always,  you  think,  a  'blunder'  —  this  high 
fever  of  love  ?  " 

"Or  deliberate  folly.     That  may  be  —  even  at  forty." 

He  was  looking  down  at  her  with  a  reckless  smile  on 
his  lips. 


72  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

"Yes,  r*ven  at  forty  one  is  capable  of  sheer  folly.  Never 
try  twoscore  years  too  far,  Mademoiselle  Carewe." 

Belinda  prayed  for  a  second  advent  of  the  Human 
Turtle.  These  waves  of  sultriness  were  oppressive  and 
experience  had  taught  her  that  conversations  with  men 
about  love  were  unprofitable.  Even  the  nicest  men 
seemed  unable  to  talk  rationally  and  impersonally  on  that 
one  topic,  and  yet  the  subject  —  in  the  abstract  —  was 
such  an  interesting  one. 

"A  dance  to-night,  Miss  Carewe!  The  Captain  saya 
so.  Isn't  that  jolly?" 

Amelia's  voice  relieved  the  tension. 

After  all,  there  were  advantages  in  personally  con- 
ducting a  party.  One  could  never  be  left  to  one's  own 
destruction  for  very  long  at  a  time. 

"  Lovely,"  agreed  the  chaperon  with  proper  enthusiasm. 

"All  waltzes  and  two-steps.  The  Captain  said  I  could 
arrange  the  programme.  I  could  simply  die  waltzing 
or  two-stepping." 

"Don't,"  urged  Miss  Carewe. 

"You  might  perhaps  give  me  a  dance,  Miss  Bowers. 
I  have  profound  desire  to  be,  as  my  English  friends  say, 
in  at  the  death  —  a  so  pleasant  death." 

Amelia  blushed;  but  Amelia  was  always  blushing,  so 
Belinda  thought  nothing  of  that  engaging  phenomenon. 
It  was  the  glance  the  girl  gave  the  man  that  caught  the 
chaperon's  eye.  A  glance  that  held  an  elusive  something 


A  FRENCHMAN  DISARRANGES  PLANS     73 

difficult  to  name,  something  that  suggested  understand- 
ing, familiarity,  something  secretive,  fleeting. 

It  was  gone  before  it  could  be  analyzed.  The  Count's 
smile  was  imperturbably  serene,  the  smile  one  accords 
to  an  attractive  child. 

"  A  waltz  ?  "  asked  Amelia. 

"  Or  two  or  three,"  the  man  amended.    "  Be  generous." 

"Three  then  —the  third  and  fifth  and  ninth." 

Belinda  brushed  the  cobwebs  from  her  brain.  Her 
imagination  had  been  playing  tricks.  Amelia  with  a 
secret!  Amelia  and  the  Count!  Nonsense! 

She  had  slipped  her  arm  through  the  girl's,  but  waited, 
while  the  glad  news  of  the  dance  was  handed  on  to  a  pass- 
ing group  of  young  folk,  and  the  count  took  advantage 
of  the  pause. 

"And  you,  Miss  Carewe?  Are  you  also  generous' 
Give  me  all  you  can,  but  the  last  dance  is  ours.  Yes? 
We  shall  be  landing  to-morrow.  It  will  be  something 
to  carry  with  me,  the  memory  of  that  last  dance  with  you." 

There  was  no  excuse  to  plead  and  he  would  probably 
dance  well.  One  could  not  imagine  him  dancing  badly. 
She  nodded,  smiling,  but  she  breathed  more  easily  when 
she  and  Amelia  had  left  him  standing  by  the  rail.  He 
was  not  like  the  men  she  had  known  and  she  had  a  whole- 
some fear  of  unknown  explosives. 


CHAPTER  FIVE 

A  TEMPORARY  TRUCE  AND  THE  SOLVING  OF  A  RIDDLE 

ON  THE  day  of  the  dance,  any  one  interested  in  Jack 
Courtney  might  have  noticed  a  sudden  change  in  the 
personally  conducted  young  man.  Every  trace  of  the 
sulkiness  which  for  days  had  clouded  his  customary 
cheerfulness  was  gone.  He  showed  a  shining  morning 
face  at  the  breakfast  table  and  even  the  hot  white  blanket 
of  fog  which  awaited  him  on  deck  could  not  dampen 
his  buoyant  mood. 

Miss  Carewe  noticed  with  surprise  and  a  certain  annoy- 
ance that  her  cool  politeness  seemed  ineffectual  as  opposed 
to  the  irrepressible  good  spirits  of  the  Odious  Creature. 
He  tucked  her  into  a  chair  as  gaily  as  though  he  expected 
her  to  be  grateful  and  chatted  with  her  as  briskly  as 
though  he  were  sure  she  would  consider  conversation 
with  him  a  privilege.  He  petted  his  Aunt  Florilla,  jol- 
lied Mr.  Perkins,  chummed  with  Mrs.  Bagby,  patronized 
the  two  girls,  was  even  pleasantly  civil  to  Count  de  Bris- 
sac;  but  first,  last  and  always  he  ignored  the  possibility 
of  any  icy  barrier  twixt  himself  and  the  young  woman 
to  whose  party  he  belonged.  In  vain  she  tried  to  put 

74 


A  TEMPORARY  TRUCE  75 

the  presuming  creature  in  his  proper  place.  He  smiled 
amiably  and  took  the  place  he  fancied. 

Belinda,  puzzled  and  a  trifle  dismayed,  searched 
vainly  for  a  clue  to  this  right-about-face.  Only  Mrs. 
Bagby,  looking  on  with  a  non-committal  smile,  understood 
and  inwardly  applauded. 

"That's  more  like  it,"  she  said  to  herself  with  quiet 
satisfaction,  and  a  touch  of  honest  pride. 

For  it  was  Mrs.  Bagby  who  had  worked  the  transfor- 
mation, although  the  thing  was  done  with  a  casual  air 
and  no  definite  word  of  advice  was  spoken. 

Late  on  the  night  before,  Jack  Courtney,  smoking  a 
last  cigar  on  deck,  had  come  upon  Mrs.  Bagby  dozing 
in  her  chair  and  sat  down  beside  her.  For  a  while  the 
two  were  silent.  Then,  some  question  about  the  itin- 
erary of  their  tour  started  a  desultory  conversation. 

"I  told  Miss  Carewe  she'd  have  to  fix  it  so  I  could 
see  Waterloo,"  Mrs.  Bagby  said,  decisively.  "Iwould'nt 
miss  that  for  a  good  deal.  It  always  makes  me  feel  that 
we  can't  be  beat.  Of  course,  I  ain't  English,  but  Ameri- 
can's the  next  thing  to  it — same  fighting  blood  I  reckon — 
and  if  that  fire-eating  Frenchman  had  messed  England  up 
the  way  he  did  all  the  rest  of  Europe,  I  wouldn't  feel 
half  as  satisfied  with  my  family  tree  as  I  do." 

"  Good  deal  of  a  fluke,  that  victory."  Courtney  was 
in  a  cynical  mood.  The  old  lady  shook  her  head  and 
sat  up  straight  in  her  chair. 


76  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

"Don't  you  believe  it,  son.  The  English  have  made 
a  collection  of  flukes  of  that  kind.  Winning's  got  to  be 
a  habit  with  them.  They  did  give  in  to  us  once  or  twice 
but  that  was  all  in  the  family  so  it  didn't  count,  and  an 
Englishman  or  an  American  who'll  let  a  Frenchman 
beat  him  at  war  or  anything  else  is  just  going  square 
back  on  his  forbears.  It  ain't  that  I  don't  like  the  French. 
They've  made  a  lot  of  grand  history,  but  I've  got  it  in 
my  creed  that  if  an  American  braces  up  and  believes  in 
himself  he  can  sprinkle  Waterloos  all  over  the  map. 
He  can't  do  it  by  sitting  in  a  corner  and  sulking,  though." 

Courtney's  cigar  had  gone  out.  He  relighted  it  care- 
fully. In  the  flaring  light  of  the  match,  his  face  looked 
very  handsome,  very  boyish,  and  the  old  lady  smiled, 
with  a  quick  following  sigh  for  the  son  the  Fates  had  not 
given  her. 

"You  put  your  money  on  the  Anglo  Saxon  then?" 
the  man  asked  with  a  quiet  voice,  through  which  a  new 
note  tingled. 

She  leaned  forward  and  laid  a  hand  on  his  arm.  Her 
homely  face  was  aglow. 

"Boy,  there's  nobody  like  him.  Sometimes  he's  fool- 
ish, sometimes  he's  bad  —  but  he  goes  after  what  he 
wants  and  he  gets  it.  He  does  it  with  a  joke  and  a  grin, 
and  a  steady  nerve  too.  You  don't  catch  him  making 
theatricals  of  it." 

Jack  Courtney  sat  up  suddenly,  cast  a  hasty  glance 


A  TEMPORARY  TRUCE  77 

along  the  deserted  deck,  and  kissed  Mrs.  Bagby's 
wrinkled  cheek. 

"There!"  he  said  gayly.  "The  first  gun  has  been 
fired  in  a  campaign  of  audacity.  En  avantl" 

"They'll  be  talking  scandal  about  us,"  laughed  the 
old  lady,  but  there  was  approval  in  the  pat  she  bestowed 
upon  the  young  man's  coat  sleeve.  Her  heart  was  big 
and  she  had  little  to  fill  it. 

Remembering  this  interview,  Mrs.  Bagby  read  Court- 
ney's new  phase  aright.  His  fighting  blood  was  up. 
He  was  going  after  what  he  wanted  and  he  confidently 
expected  to  get  it.  If  the  French  nobility  stood  in  the 
way,  so  much  the  worse  for  the  French  nobility. 

The  one  representative  of  the  French  nobility  directly 
concerned  in  the  affair,  recognized  a  new  element  in  the 
situation.  Courtney's  genial,  slightly  patronizing  air 
toward  him  was  more  objectionable  than  his  earlier 
rudeness.  It  could  not  be  resented  and  it  gave  him  no 
opportunity  for  an  exhibition  of  superior  manners.  More- 
over since  this  pestilential  young  American  had  come 
out  of  his  shell,  opportunities  for  gracious  civilities  toward 
members  of  Miss  Carewe's  party  were  suddenly  lacking. 
Mr.  Courtney  seemed  to  fill  the  stage,  met  every  need, 
made  himself  indispensable;  and  did  it  all  with  a  blithe 
self-assurance,  an  air  of  established  intimacy  which  rele- 
gated the  Count  to  the  role  of  rank  outsider. 

He   had   become   conversational,  too,  this   surprising 


78  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

Monsieur  Courtney  who  had  not  heretofore  had  a  word 
to  throw  to  a  dog.  It  appeared  that  these  Americans  could 
talk  of  other  things  than  money  making,  when  they  gave 
their  mind  to  it,  and  this  one  talked  amazingly  well,  in 
an  inconsequent  fashion,  telling  tales  of  ranch  life  in 
Arizona,  of  hunting  with  the  outlaws  of  Jackson's 
Hole,  of  prospecting  in  Mexico,  of  cruising  in  South 
American  seas. 

Belinda,  ostensibly  buried  in  her  novel,  found  herself 
forgetting  to  turn  the  pages,  forgetting,  too,  that  this 
was  the  objectionable  person  whom  she  detested  and 
with  whom  she  would  not  upon  any  terms  establish 
friendly  relations;  but  she  reminded  herself  of  the  dam- 
ning facts  whenever  a  break  in  Courtney's  narrative  gave 
her  a  chance  to  think  of  other  things,  and  she  gave  no 
outward  sign  of  interest  in  anything  beyond  her  book. 

The  fog  drifted  away  before  the  increasing  breeze, 
clinging  in  shreds  to  mast  and  cordage,  hovering  phan- 
tomwise  over  the  crests  of  the  waves,  playing  strange 
tricks  with  the  struggling  rays  of  sunshine.  Count  de 
Brissac,  tired  of  a  scene  in  which  another  man  held  the 
limelight,  wandered  away  to  the  smoking  room.  Amelia 
and  Laura  May  triumphantly  carried  Courtney,  Mrs. 
Bagby  and  Mrs.  Perkins  off  to  play  shuffleboard,  Mr. 
Perkins  feebly  protesting,  but  finding  a  certain  awful 
joy  in  his  own  hardihood.  Miss  Perkins  had  gone  to 
her  stateroom  after  breakfast. 


Mrs.  Nicholson,  left  alone  with  Belinda,  turned  a 
happy  face  toward  the  girl. 

"Jack  is  quite  himself  again  today,"  she  said  with  an 
air  of  relief.  "Now  you  will  see  him  at  his  best.  Have 
you  noticed  the  change,  my  dear?  I've  been  worried 
about  him,  but  he's  evidently  all  right  now.  He's  very 
entertaining,  isn't  he?" 

And  out  of  consideration  for  the  doting  aunt,  Belinda 
did  violence  to  her  prejudices  and  admitted  that  he  was 
entertaining.  To  her  own  surprise  she  found  herself 
distinctly  piqued  by  the  very  obvious  restoration  of  Court- 
ney's good  spirits.  That  a  man  under  the  ban  of  her 
displeasure  should  unconcernedly  radiate  cheerfulness 
was  disconcerting,  if  not  downright  insulting.  It  upset 
tradition  and  destroyed  her  confidence  in  well-established 
laws  of  cause  and  effect.  Men  were  not  expected  to  smile 
when  she  frowned,  and  this  attack  of  smiles  was  so  sud- 
den. There  had  been  gloom  enough  only  twenty-four 
hours  before.  Perhaps,  after  all,  that  gloom  had  had 
nothing  to  do  with  her  coolness.  Perhaps  there  had  been 
some  other  cause  for  it  and  that  cause  had  been  suddenly 
removed. 

Belinda  blushed. 

It  was    mortifying  to  think  that  her   efforts  toward 

refrigeration  might  all  have  been  unnoticed,  utterly  futile 

—  and  yet  it  would  be  still  more  mortifying  to  think  that 

the  man  had  appreciated  the  efforts  and  was  not  in  the 


80  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

least  affected  by  them.  Curiosity  seethed  within  her. 
Did  he  care?  Didn't  he  care?  Had  he  joined  the 
party  because  she  was  conducting  it  or  because  his  aunt 
belonged  in  it? 

Even  when  all  the  questions  were  answered  and  how- 
ever they  were  answered  he  would  still  be  abominable. 
That  was  understood.  But,  in  the  meantime,  she  hated 
riddles.  She  wanted  to  know  just  where  he  stood, 
this  intrusive  person. 

Sounds  of  hilarity  floated  back  from  the  forward  deck, 
where  the  game  of  shuffleboard  was  in  progress,  and 
after  a  vain  effort  to  enjoy  her  book,  Belinda  left  her 
chair  and  strolled  forward. 

"You  should  just  watch  Mr.  Perkins,  Miss  Carewe," 
Amelia  called  out  to  her  as  she  came  within  hailing  dis- 
tance. "He's  a  perfect  wizard  at  shuffleboard.  He's 
beating  all  of  us." 

Mr.  Perkins,  his  overcoat  thrown  aside,  his  cuffs  tucked 
up,  his  bald  head  shining,  proceeded  to  demonstrate, 
and  as  his  disc  settled  reposefully  on  a  high  number, 
mopped  his  brow  and  turned  a  triumphant  face  toward 
Miss  Carewe. 

"  Just  a  trick,  a  mere  trick,"  he  protested  modestly. 
"It  seems  to  come  quite  naturally  to  me.  I've  never 
realized  before  that  I  had  an  aptitude  for  athletics.  I've 
been  too  frail  to  go  into  that  sort  of  thing  but  per- 
haps   " 


A  TEMPORARY  TRUCE  81 

"Best  thing  in  the  world  for  your  liver,"  Mrs.  Bagby 
interrupted  briskly.  "There  —  it's  your  turn  again. 
Knock  Mr.  Courtney  out."  He  did  it,  and  looked  to 
the  gallery  for  applause. 

"  Splendid ! "  exclaimed  Belinda. 

"Bully  shot,"  said  Courtney. 

"Didn't  I  say  he  was  a  wiz?"  chortled  Amelia,  but 
Miss  Perkins,  arriving  upon  the  scene  from  her  state- 
room, stared  at  her  brother  in  amazement  and  dismay. 

"Martin!  What  in  the  world?  And  without  your 
coat!  And  all  in  perspiration!  Think  of  your  heart, 
brother.  Do  think  of  your  heart!  There's  your  cap- 
sule —  but  you'll  need  something  more  now.  I  don't 
know  what  to  give  you.  You'd  better  go  right  to  your 
stateroom  and  lie  down.  Maybe  some  aromatic  spirits 
of  ammonia  would  — 

But  Mr.  Perkins  interrupted  her  impatiently. 

"  I'm  feeling  very  well,  Maria,  very  well  indeed.  Mrs. 
Bagby  assures  me  that  profuse  perspiration  is  an  excel- 
lent thing  for  the  system.  I'll  just  skip  that  capsule, 
Maria.  I'm  disappointed  in  those  capsules  anyway. 
It's  your  shot,  Mrs.  Bagby." 

Poor  Miss  Perkins,  dazed  and  distressed,  sank  into 
a  steamer  chair,  clasping  the  despised  capsules  to  her 
breast. 

"I  don't  wish  to  say  anything  harsh,"  she  murmured 
tearfully  to  Belinda,  "  but  that  woman  is  leading  Martin 


82  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

into  folly,  sheer  folly.  He  seems  perfectly  bewitched 
and  he's  getting  more  reckless  every  day.  He  actually 
ate  waffles  for  breakfast  yesterday  —  waffles  with  syrup. 
She  told  him  to  digest  them  with  his  mind  and  not 
bother  about  his  stomach.  Did  you  ever  hear  of  any- 
thing like  that?" 

"The  waffles  didn't  hurt  him,  did  they?"  asked 
Belinda  gravely. 

"You  can  never  tell.  They  didn't  seem  to,  right  at 
the  time;  but  there's  no  knowing  what  he  may  be  laying 
up  for  himself.  She  says  heavy  flannels  are  deadly! 
He's  going  to  put  on  light-weight  ones.  I'm  sure  I  don't 
know  how  it  will  all  end  but  I'm  afraid  there  will  be 
serious  results,  my  dear,  very  serious  results." 

Belinda  valiantly  suppressed  a  smile. 

"I  wouldn't  worry,"  she  said  gently.  "He  seems  to 
be  feeling  better  than  when  we  started,  and  the  bene- 
fits of  the  trip  will  probably  offset  everything  else  —  even 
waffles  and  light-weight  flannels." 

Miss  Perkins  sighed. 

"I  don't  know.  It's  wonderful  how  even  the  most 
sensible  man  can  be  led  astray  by  a  woman." 

The  picture  of  Mrs.  Bagby  in  the  role  of  siren  luring 
Mr.  Perkins  from  the  high  seas  of  rectitude  was  too  much 
for  Belinda's  risible  muscles.  The  smile  would  out  and 
she  walked  across  to  the  rail  so  that  she  might  turn  it 
loose  without  offense.  She  stood  there,  idly  watching 


A  TEMPORARY  TRUCE  83 

the  game,  but  no  one  joined  her.  Mrs.  Bagby,  Mr. 
Perkins,  Laura  May  and  Tommy  Shallcross  were 
playing.  Jack  Courtney  had  dropped  out  and  was 
quite  obviously  flirting  with  Amelia  —  to  that  young 
person's  evident  delight  and  his  own  apparent  enjoy- 
ment. 

The  chaperon  felt  old  and  neglected.  After  all,  one 
was  getting  on  at  twenty-five.  Only  five  years  more  and 
one  would  be  thirty;  and  after  thirty  —  the  deluge. 

Courtney  strolled  over  to  Miss  Carewe,  when  a  group 
of  girls  interrupted  his  tete-a-tete  with  Amelia,  and 
she  watched  his  coming  with  mixed  emotions  among 
which  curiosity  was  uppermost.  He  did  not  seem  eager 
to  join  her  —  amiably  indifferent  rather  —  but  he  came; 
and  when  he  reached  her  she  welcomed  him  with  a  smile 
and  an  upward  glance  which,  for  the  moment,  reduced 
him  to  speechless  amazement. 

She  was  actually  showing  him  her  eyelashes — and  her 
dimples!  She  was  looking  at  him,  not  through  him. 

Her  eyes  were  friendly  and  her  voice,  when  she  spoke, 
was  as  friendly  as  her  eyes. 

"Are  you  looking  forward  to  the  dance?"  she  asked. 
"  The  girls  can  hardly  wait  until  evening." 

"And  you?"  he  said  quickly.  "Of  course  you  like 
dancing  ?  " 

"I  adore  it." 

"  Me  too.     Will  you  give  me  the  first  dance  ?  " 


84  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

She  nodded,  with  another  swift,  encouraging  glance 
from  beneath  the  long  lashes. 

"And  others?" 

"Perhaps." 

"  Every  third  dance  ?  "     He  was  growing  bold. 

"You  are  rash.     I  may  dance  badly." 

"You  couldn't.     Every  third?" 

The  shuffleboard  game  was  ended.  The  crowd  was 
bearing  down  upon  them. 

"Well  then,  perhaps  you  dance  badly,"  Belinda  sug- 
gested. "Self-preservation  is  a  natural  impulse." 

He  shook  his  head. 

"I've  been  credibly  informed  that  I  dance  like  an 
archangel  —  if  that  conveys  any  idea  to  you.  I  gathered 
that  the  remark  was  intended  for  a  compliment." 

"  But  every  third  dance  with  an  archangel  — 

"Try  it,"  he  urged.  "You  may  like  it.  Perhaps  the 
archangelic  dancing  is  as  good  as  their  trumpet  blowing 
and  sword  play." 

She  laughed. 

"I  believe  I'll  take  my  chances.  The  floor  will  prob- 
ably be  bad  enough  to  temper  the  bliss  so  that  a  mere 
mortal  can  support  it." 

They  were  not  alone  again  that  day,  and  Count  de 
Brissac  had  his  innings  in  the  afternoon;  Mr  Courtney 
viewed  his  rival  with  a  tolerant  eye.  Incidentally,  he 
bribed  the  leader  of  the  orchestra  to  rearrange  his  musical 


A  TEMPORARY  TRUCE  85 

programme  making  every  third  dance  long  and  shorten- 
ing the  two  in  between. 

"Ach  ja;  I  also  haf  lofed,"  said  the  sympathetic  Ger- 
man, with  a  cyclonic  sigh  as  he  pocketed  a  bill  whose 
back  glowed  yellow  in  the  afternoon  sunlight.  "I  will 
play  for  you  waltzes  to  melt  a  heart  of  stone,  Mr.  Court- 
ney. Not  the  two-steps.  Du  lieber  Himmel,  no.  One 
romps  through  the  two-step.  It  is  for  children  who  play, 
but  for  lovers  the  waltz  also  was  made." 

"Well,  the  thing  isn't  so  serious  as  all  that,  Reichold," 
Courtney  protested  with  a  laugh.  "You  can  give  me  an 
occasional  romp,  but  make  most  of  those  third  dances 
waltzes." 

Then  he  rested  on  his  oars  and  waited  for  evening; 
but,  in  the  midst  of  his  satisfaction,  faint  doubts  assailed 
him.  Why  had  she  changed  so  suddenly !  There  must  be 
some  reason,  but  none  appeared,  and  the  Greeks  bearing 
gifts  had  long  been  subject  to  suspicion.  He  puzzled  over 
the  thing  a  while,  then  tossed  the  problem  aside.  At  least 
she  had  smiled  —  and  they  would  have  the  waltzes. 

The  Captain's  dinner  went  off  in  festive  fashion.  The 
men  who  break  into  after-dinner  speeches  with  or  with- 
out provocation  said  their  say.  The  orchestra  played 
God  Save  the  King  and  the  Star  Spangled  Banner  and 
every  one  stood  up  for  everybody  else's  national  air,  and 
when  at  last  the  crowd  filed  out  from  the  dining  salon, 
good  fellowship  radiated  even  from  the  most  haughty  and 


86  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

exclusive  of  the  passengers,  while  those  who  were  humanly 
sociable  by  nature  went  about  sowing  their  visiting  cards 
with  reckless  prodigality. 

"Don't  you  hate  to  think  we'll  land  to-morrow?" 

Amelia  addressed  this  question  to  the  world  at  large, 
on  her  way  out  from  dinner,  but  did  not  wait  for  an  answer. 
Amelia  seldom  waited  for  answers. 

"I  do,"  she  went  on  with  a  rush.  "I  love  every  little 
screw  in  this  old  steamer.  I've  had  a  perfectly  dandy 
time,  and  then  there's  the  dance  to-night,  and  the  moon's 
full,  and  one  doesn't  have  to  catch  anything  —  trains 
and  things  I  mean.  Of  course  I  know  I'll  have  a  beauti- 
ful time  in  London.  Laura  May  and  I  are  crazy  to  see 
where  Lady  Jane  Grey  was  beheaded  and  the  Horse 
Guards  and  everything.  They  say  they're  perfectly  stun- 
ning and  she  was  such  a  dear  and  it's  awfully  sad,  but 
you  know  it's  so  nice  just  sailing  along  and  not  having 
anything  happen,  and  seeing  the  same  people,  and  eating 
five  meals  a  day,  and  being  perfectly  sure  nobody  will 
come  up  and  insist  on  your  going  somewhere  because  it's 
instructive  or  your  duty  or  something.  I'd  like  to  sail 
right  around  the  world." 

The  sentiment  found  an  echo  in  Belinda's  heart.  She 
was  afraid  of  Plymouth.  Responsibility  waited  for  her 
there  and  the  voyage  had  been  a  reprieve.  Her  mind 
wandered  off  on  the  trail  of  Miss  Barnes's  instructions 
but  was  called  back  by  something  Courtney  was  saying. 


A  TEMPORARY  TRUCE  87 

"The  fog  has  done  its  best  for  you,  Miss  Bowers.  We 
lost  two  hours  last  night  and  more  yesterday.  We'll 
dock  very  late  to-morrow  if  at  all." 

"Late  in  the  evening?" 

Belinda's  voice  held  a  note  of  dismay. 

"Not  before  nine  or  ten." 

"And  about  getting  up  to  London?" 

"They'll  run  a  late  train." 

"  But  it  will  reach  London  in  the  middle  of  the  night." 

"Oh  no;  early  morning.  And  they  don't  put  you  off 
at  once.  One  can  sleep  until  a  respectable  hour." 

The  wrinkle  between  Miss  Carewe's  brows  faded  away. 
She  had  had  an  appalling  vision  of  a  tired  and  disgruntled 
group  of  travellers  wandering  through  unknown  and 
deserted  streets  in  the  wee  sma'  hours,  pinning  their  faith 
to  bandit  cabmen  and  waking  irate  boarding-house  keepers 
from  peaceful  slumbers.  By  contrast  with  that  picture 
a  night  in  a  sleeping  car  looked  Elysian. 

"Almost  everybody's  dressed  up."  Amelia  was  study- 
ing the  crowd  pouring  out  of  the  dining  salon.  "Even 
the  fat  woman  with  the  babies  has  put  on  a  white  silk 
waist.  She's  the  kind  of  woman  that  always  does  put 
on  a  white  silk  waist.  You  know,  Miss  Carewe.  Some- 
times they  put  a  black  bow  in  their  hair,  too.  Miss 
Busch  —  the  oldest  one  —  that  wrinkles  her  nose  like  a 
rabbit " 

"Amelia!" 


88  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

The  chaperon's  voice  was  weighty  with  disapproval. 

"Well,  she  does,  Miss  Carewe  —  just  exactly  like  it. 
You'd  have  said  so  yourself  if  you  had  seen  her  eating 
lettuce.  You  know  she  leans  back  in  her  chair  and  cats 
everything  with  her  knife." 

"My  dear,  it's  very  ill-bred  to  criticize." 

"Why,  I'm  not  criticizing,  Miss  Carewe.  I  think  it's 
wonderful  how  she  does  it  —  peas  and  everything.  Laura 
May  and  I  are  wild  to  try.  Aren't  we  Laura  May  ?  So's 
Tommy.  He  says  he'd  have  given  anything  to  sit  at  our 
table  so  he  could  watch  her.  He  had  his  dinner  there  with 
us  the  other  night  —  the  night  Laura  May  and  I  were  so 
late,  Miss  Carewe.  You  had  finished  your  dinner  and 
gone.  Well,  Miss  Busch  was  late  too,  and  I  had  to  keep 
telling  Tommy  all  the  time  not  to  be  rude  and  stare  at 
her  so.  After  a  while  he  clutched  at  my  arm  and  whis- 
pered 'look,'  and  of  course  I  looked,  and  then  I  just 
couldn't  take  my  eyes  off  her.  She  was  sitting  way  back 
in  her  chair  and  she  had  a  great  big  leaf  of  lettuce  on  her 
knife  —  all  oily,  you  know,  so  it  would  make  an  awful 
mess  if  it  fell  off.  She  started  it  toward  her  mouth  and 
it  wobbled  and  wobbled  and  Tommy  bet  me  a  pair  of 
gloves  she  couldn't  make  it.  And  then  we  couldn't  see 
what  in 'the  world  she  was  going  to  do  with  it  if  she  did 
get  it  to  her  mouth  —  a  great  big  leaf  like  that,  flat  on 
her  knife.  Well,  when  she  got  it  up  where  she  could 
reach  it,  she  took  the  edge  of  it  between  her  lips  and  then 


89 

she  just  began  to  nibble  and  nibble,  sort  of  drawing  the  leaf 
in  from  each  side.  It  was  perfectly  fascinating,  and  she 
looked  more  like  a  rabbit  than  ever,  and  by  and  by  she 
got  that  whole  leaf  of  lettuce  in  her  mouth.  Then  she 
put  down  her  knife  and  looked  pleased  with  herself. 
Tommy  said  she  ought  to  be.  He  said  that  wasn't  bad 
table  manners.  It  was  a  trick." 

Courtney  and  Mrs.  Bagby  were  chuckling,  but  Miss 
Carewe  was  making  a  laudable  effort  to  look  seriously 
displeased. 

"That  sort  of  thing  sounds  ill-natured,  Amelia." 

"But  it  isn't,  Miss  Carewe,  really.  I  like  her  and  I 
didn't  mean  to  talk  about  her  table  manners  anyway. 
I  was  just  going  to  tell  you  that  she  said  she'd  been  to 
Europe  four  times  and  that  with  two  or  three  separate 
waists  a  lady  could  be  appropriately  dressed  for  any  occa- 
sion. She  almost  made  me  sorry  I'd  brought  evening 
gowns  and  afternoon  gowns  and  things." 

Courtney  looked  at  the  pretty  pink  frock  the  girl  was 
wearing  and  smiled  his  approval. 

"The  rest  of  us  are  glad  you  brought  them,"  he  said 
with  emphasis.  "These  women  who  pride  themselves 
on  getting  along  without  any  luggage  and  make  frights 
of  themselves  when  they  travel,  ought  to  be  made  to  do 
their  travelling  where  nobody  else  will  have  to  meet  them. 
The  thing's  a  perfect  mania  with  some  women." 

Amelia  assented  vigorously.     "  That's  like  Mrs.  Powers. 


90  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

She's  the  stocky,  determined  looking  woman  you  know, 
with  the  real  short  skirt  and  the  brown  fedora.  She 
travels  all  the  time.  I  don't  know  where  Mr.  Powers  is. 
I  guess  he's  dead,  but  maybe  he's  just  tired  out.  She's  on 
her  way  to  Iceland  now  and  she's  just  got  a  dress  suit 
case  —  not  another  thing,  not  even  an  umbrella.  Her 
suit  is  cravenetted  and  she  has  a  rubber  coat  and  she 
doesn't  mind  about  her  hat  getting  wet. 

"She  travelled  all  over  Asia  with  only  a  dress  suit 
case  and  she  says  that's  ample,  if  you've  got  the  things 
down  to  a  science  the  way  she  has.  You  see  she  wears 
black  silk  underwear  that  don't  have  to  be  washed." 

"Amelia,  you  talk  altogether  too  much,"  interrupted 
the  chaperon. 

"Oh,  she  has  two  suits,  Miss  Carewe,  so  she  can  have 
them  washed  sometimes,  but  not  often  like  white  ones, 
and  they  take  up  much  less  room.  And  then,  she  has  an 
extra  skirt  and  an  extra  pair  of  shoes  and  another  dark 
silk  waist  and  two  pairs  of  stockings  and  she's  ready 
for  Asia  or  anywhere.  Oh,  yes,  and  quinine  and  fever 
tablets  and  calomel  and  a  toothbrush  and  comb.  She 
just  throws  away  her  hat  when  it  gives  out  and  gets  another. 
Once  she  had  to  wear  a  wicker  basket.  It's  awfully  clever 
of  her,  isn't  it?  She's  been  through  two  earthquakes 
and  a  riot  and  the  cholera  plague  and  the  Suez  canal  and 
everything.  I  love  to  hear  her  talk.  That's  one  of  the 
nicest  things  about  a  ship.  You  meet  such  interesting 


A  TEMPORARY  TRUCE  91 

people  that  you'd  never  meet  at  home.  You  miss  a  lot, 
Miss  Carewe,  not  getting  better  acquainted." 

"There  goes  the  band,"  interrupted  Laura  May,  and 
the  two  girls  fled  deckward. 

Belinda  looked  hopelessly  at  her  companions. 

"What  can  I  do  with  her?"  she  asked. 

"Let  her  alone,"  advised  Courtney.  "That  type  of 
girl  often  settles  down  into  a  first-rate  wife  and  mother  — 
one  of  the  comfortable,  affectionate,  easy-going  kind." 

"But  I  feel  responsible." 

"Don't.  A  chaperon  can't  work  miracles.  She's 
rich  enough  not  to  need  brains  and  she  has  good 
looks  thrown  in  for  full  measure.  She's  an  only  child, 
isn't  she?" 

"Yes." 

"And  her  father  is  worth  twenty-five  million  and  has 

heart  disease!     Brains  would  simply  be  wasted  on  that 

girl,  Miss  Carewe.     Nature  has  to  economize  somewhere 

—  and  then  I  think  she's  rather  a  duck,  just  as  she  is." 

The  strains  of  a  waltz  floated  in  from  the  deck  and 
there  was  a  general  exodus  through  the  open  doors. 

Courtney  looked  a  question  at  Belinda  and  she  nodded 
assent. 

"A  vous,  Monsieur  PArchange,"  she  said  laughingly, 
and  they  joined  the  outward-bound  crowd. 

The  wide  starboard  deck  had  been  cleared  of  chairs  and 
made  gay  with  festoons  of  coloured  electric  lights,  which 


92  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

mocked  the  flooding  moonlight,  and  the  languorous  melody 
of  the  Valse  Bleu  was  mingling  oddly  with  the  surge  of 
the  waves. 

Amelia  and  Laura  May  were  already  dancing,  other 
couples  were  following  their  lead.  Belinda  slipped  off 
the  great  cape  of  white  serge  which  she  had  thrown  over 
her  white  frock.  Her  eyes  were  glowing,  she  was  already 
swaying  slightly  with  the  music.  Even  at  twenty-five 
one  has  not  left  the  waltz  lure  behind.  Looking 
down  at  the  eager  face,  at  the  slender  swaying  figure, 
Jack  Courtney  drew  a  long  breath  of  thankfulness. 
It  is  something  to  have  seen  the  face  of  one's  heart's 
desire  even  if  one  must  travel  a  weary  way  before 
attaining  it. 

"God  bless  that  bull  pup!"  he  murmured  fervently, 
and  Belinda  catching  the  words  faintly,  looked  bewildered. 
How  should  she  know  that  if  on  a  Maytime  morning 
Dawson's  bull  pup  had  not  called  him  across  a  short  cut 
running  through  a  certain  orchard,  Jack  Courtney  would 
not  have  been  slipping  an  arm  around  her  and  gliding 
down  the  deck  with  her  to  the  languorous  rhythm  of  the 
Valse  Bleu  ? 

He  could  dance.  There  was  no  doubt  about  that. 
Overhead,  the  little  red  lights  gleamed  gayly,  throwing 
splashes  of  colour  over  the  morning  crowd  below.  Beyond 
the  rail  a  moonlit  sea  stirred  restlessly,  as  though  in  answer 
to  the  music's  urge. 


A  TEMPORARY  TRUCE  93 

The  deck  was  rough,  in  spite  of  wax,  the  dancing  crowd 
was  motley,  but  Belinda  forgot  all  that  and  gave  herself 
up  to  the  joy  of  moonlight  and  melody  and  rhythmic 
movement.  She  could  understand  why  the  enthusiast 
had  called  in  the  archangels  in  trying  to  describe  Court- 
ney's dancing.  One  could  forgive  much  to  a  partner 
like  this.  Wrath,  pique,  curiosity  melted  away  in  the 
music's  spell.  Almost  she  could  forgive  the  man  for  the 
encounter  in  the  orchard,  she  might  even  forgive  him  for 
joining  her  party.  If  he  wanted  to  see  her  again,  wanted 
to  be  with  her  —  how  could  she  resent  a  thing  like  that, 
with  the  Valse  Bleu  sounding  in  her  ears  and  the  moon- 
light making  a  path  of  silver  across  the  sea,  and  the  man's 
step  rhyming  with  her  own  ? 

The  music  stopped,  the  spell  was  broken,  but  the  charity 
endured. 

Herr  Reichold  had  been  as  good  as  his  word. 

The  fourth  dance  found  Belinda  and  Courtney  together 
once  more  and  it  came  quickly. 

Loyal  Herr  Reichold!  The  seventh  dance  was  theirs, 
the  tenth. 

After  the  tenth,  Belinda  retreated  into  a  corner  with 
Mrs.  Nicholson.  Why  spoil  those  waltzes  by  interpo- 
lating two-steps  with  men  who  could  not  dance  ? 

Courtney  was  dancing  with  Amelia.  It  occurred  to 
Belinda  that  he  had  been  dancing  with  Amelia  most  of 
the  time  when  he  was  not  dancing  with  her  and  that  he 


94    THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

seemed  to  enjoy  it.  The  same  idea  had  evidently  occurred 
to  Mrs.  Nicholson;  for  she  laid  a  hand  gently  on  Belinda's 
arm  and  leaned  forward  to  speak  confidentially. 

"They  look  well  together,  don't  they?"  she  said  with 
smiling  pride.  "Have  you  noticed  how  admirably  they 
get  on  with  each  other,  Miss  Carewe  ?  I  shouldn't  wonder 
at  all  if  this  trip  would  end  very  happily  for  both  of  them. 
Of  course,  being  her  chaperon,  you  wouldn't  want  any- 
thing definite  to  happen,  but  I  don't  think  Mr.  Bowers 
could  object.  Jack's  family  is  excellent  —  and  his  social 
position  —  and  he's  doing  very  well  in  business.  He  has 
everything  but  money,  and  you  see  he  needs  money  very 
much  indeed  —  a  great  deal  of  it.  There  are  some 
schemes  just  now.  I  suppose  I  mustn't  talk  about  them, 
but  one  has  to  have  money  in  order  to  make  money  now, 
it  seems.  We've  felt  that  Jack  must  marry  money.  Not 
that  he  would  marry  for  money,  you  know.  He's  not 
like  that;  but  if  he  could  fall  in  love  with  a  very  rich  girl 
it  would  be  most  fortunate,  and  it's  quite  easy  for  a  man 
of  his  age  to  fall  in  love  with  a  rich  girl,  if  he  goes  where 
rich  girls  are. 

"I  told  him  when  I  first  decided  to  join  your  party 
that  Miss  Bowers  was  going  and  that  I  understood  she 
was  very  pretty  and  a  great  heiress,  and  that  I'd  have 
her  visit  me  after  we  came  back,  but  he  only  laughed 
at  me. 

"I  have  wondered  sometimes,  though,  if  he  wasn't  more 


A  TEMPORARY  TRUCE  95 

interested  than  he  seemed  and  if  he  wasn't  curious  to 
meet  her,  and  hadn't  made  me  a  bit  of  a  cat's  paw." 

She  laughed  softly. 

"I  shouldn't  blame  him  at  all.  Young  men  will  be 
young  men  and  I  know  he's  fond  of  me.  And  it  would  be 
very  nice  indeed  if  the  thing  should  work  out  beautifully 
all  around  as  it  promises  to.  She's  such  a  pretty  girl  and 
good  hearted  and  she'll  get  over  her  heedlessness.  It 
would  really  be  a  most  suitable  match,  wouldn't  it,  Miss 
Care  we?" 

"Perhaps." 

Miss  Carewe's  reply  was  laconic,  non-committal. 

"Of  course,  I  couldn't  allow  any  entanglement  while 
she's  under  my  care,"  she  added. 

The  word  "entanglement"  rang  unpleasantly  in  Mrs. 
Nicholson's  fastidious  ears. 

"You  may  be  quite  sure  Jack  will  do  nothing  under- 
handed," she  said  rather  stiffly,  "but  I  don't  see  that  any 
one  can  prevent  their  falling  in  love  with  each  other,  and 
from  what  I  overheard  between  them  this  morning  — 
She  stopped  suddenly  with  a  faint  blush,  and  changed 
the  subject.  Things  that  men  and  maids  say  in  jest 
nowadays  would  have  meant  much  in  the  time  of  Mrs. 
Nicholson's  youth,  and  she  failed  to  make  allowance  for 
the  latter-day  freedom. 

Belinda  had  turned  her  back  to  the  light  and  was  look- 
ing out  across  the  water,  her  white  cloak  falling  in  soft 


96  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

folds  around  her,  its  ample  hood  drawn  up  over  her  head 
and  shadowing  the  sides  of  her  face,  though  the  moonlight 
fell  white  across  her  lips  and  eyes.  The  lips  were  not 
smiling  and  in  the  eyes  there  was  a  hint  of  scorn. 

So  that  was  the  answer?  He  needed  money  and  he 
had  come  heiress  hunting.  No  wonder  he  was  so  well 
informed  about  Mr.  Bowers's  fortune  and  health  and  so 
tolerant  of  Amelia's  manners.  His  aunt  had  told  him 
about  the  girl  and  he  had  decided  that  so  good  an  oppor- 
tunity must  not  be  lost.  He  would  be  the  only  young 
man  in  the  party  —  would  have  every  chance.  He  might 
very  well  feel  confident.  And  he  had  been  afraid  she 
wouldn't  be  willing  to  personally  conduct  a  young  man,  so 
he  had  kept  his  identity  dark  until  it  was  too  late  for  any- 
thing to  interfere  with  his  plans.  Oh,  it  was  all  perfectly 
simple  when  one  had  the  key.  She  had  been  sure  devo- 
tion to  his  aunt  did  not  bring  him  —  but  she  had  been 
fatuous  enough  to  imagine  that,  having  seen  her  in  the 
orchard  — 

Tears  of  mortification  rose  to  her  eyes  and  glistened 
in  the  moonlight.  What  an  idiot  she  had  been!  What 
a  double-dyed  idiot!  He  had  wanted  to  make  friends 
with  her  so  that  she  wouldn't  interfere  with  his  making 
love  to  Amelia.  And  he  had  disliked  Count  de  Brissac 
because  he  resented  the  Count's  attentions  to  Amelia 
—  afraid  another  fortune  hunter  might  get  in  ahead 
of  him. 


A  TEMPORARY  TRUCE  97 

The  whole  thing  was  clear,  absolutely  clear.  Prob- 
ably every  one  had  understood  —  except  herself  —  imbecile 
that  she  was. 

The  tears  gathered  and  rolled  down  her  cheeks.  Belinda 
always  cried  when  she  was  in  a  rage,  and  then  went  into  a 
worse  rage  because  she  was  crying.  It  was  so  stupid  to 
cry,  and  it  always  made  one's  nose  and  eyelids  red  and 
swollen.  Only  book  heroines  could  look  like  roses  fresh 
washed  with  dew,  after  a  good  cry.  Vanity  came  to  her 
rescue,  as  it  had  many  a  time  before,  and  she  winked 
violently  at  the  moonlight  sea  which  winked  back  at  her 
understandingly. 

"Miss  Carewe,  this  is  our  dance.  It's  next  to  the 
last  number  on  the  programme  —  worse  luck!" 

The  shrouded,  white  figure  started  slightly  at  the  sound 
of  his  voice  but  did  not  turn  its  head. 

"I'm  too  tired  to  dance.  You'll  have  to  excuse  me, 
Mr.  Courtney." 

She  was  civil,  but  her  voice  had  regained  the  frost  which 
had  melted  from  it  during  the  evening,  and  Courtney 
stared  wonderingly  at  the  hooded  head.  Her  face  he 
could  not  see. 

"But  I've  counted  so  on  this  last  one.  Reichold's 
going  to  play  the  Valse  Bleu  again.  You  said  you  liked 
it,  and  -  -  " 

"You'll  really  have  to  excuse  me,"  said  Belinda  to  the 
moon;  and  Courtney  turned  on  his  heel.  What  had  he 


98  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

done  now  ?  What  had  happened  ?  He  had  thought 
everything  was  going  so  well. 

Ramming  his  hands  into  his  pockets,  he  stalked  off  to 
the  bow  of  the  boat  and  stood  there  smoking  savagely 
while  the  Valse  Bleu  sighed  and  pleaded  and  promised. 
Stubbornly  he  tried  to  shut  the  music  out  from  his  con- 
sciousness but  it  throbbed  in  his  ears  and  tugged  at  his 
heart  until  it  died  away  in  a  final,  lingering  appeal. 

"Oh,  hell!"  exclaimed  the  man,  as  he  threw  his  smould- 
ering cigar  into  the  sea. 

Five  minutes  later,  dancing  the  last  dance  with  Amelia, 
he  passed  Miss  Carewe  and  Count  de  Brissac.  She  was 
smiling  radiantly  and  her  dancing  held  no  hint  of  fatigue. 

"The  Count's  a  gorgeous  dancer,"  said  Amelia. 

Whereupon,  Courtney  repeated  the  terse  remark  which 
had  relieved  his  feelings  a  few  moments  before  but,  this 
time,  out  of  consideration  for  the  Young  Person,  he 
muttered  it  under  his  breath. 

The  crowd  on  deck  dwindled  rapidly  after  the  music 
stopped.  All  of  the  older  folk  promptly  turned  their 
faces  berthward;  and,  though  the  younger  contingent 
lingered,  loth  to  leave  the  moonlight  witchery  behind, 
they  too  disappeared  gradually  with  last  regretful  glances 
from  sleepy  eyes. 

Belinda,  strolling  up  and  down  the  deck  with  die  Bra- 
zilian mine  owner,  upon  whom  the  beauty  of  the  night 
was  having  an  emotional  effect  wholly  incompatible  with 


A  TEMPORARY  TRUCE  99 

his  limited  command  of  English,  passed  a  jolly  group  of 
whom  Laura  May  appeared  to  be  the  central  feature  and 
suddenly  woke  to  realization  that  the  hour  was  late  and 
that  she  was  a  chaperon. 

She  stopped  beside  Laura  May's  steamer  chair  and 
touched  the  girl  lightly  on  the  shoulder. 

"  Come,  my  dear.     It's  frightfully  late." 

A  chorus  of  protests  arose. 

"The  very  last  night,  Miss  Carewe  —  and  such  a 
heavenly  night  too!" 

But  the  chaperon,  having  once  remembered  her  role, 
was  adamant. 

"Where  is  Amelia?"   she  asked. 

"The  foolish  thing  went  below  half  an  hour  ago.  Said 
she  was  dead  tired  and  sleepy." 

Belinda  felt  a  faint  surprise.  Amelia  did  not  often 
fall  by  the  way  —  Laura  May  reluctantly  followed  her 
chaperon  down  to  her  stateroom  and  parted  from  her  at 
her  door. 

"It  seems  a  sin  to  go  to  bed,"  she  sighed.  "But  at 
any  rate  we  won't  land  before  late  to-morrow  evening  and 
the  moon  comes  up  early.  Good  night,  Miss  Carewe." 

She  went  on  down  the  corridor  to  her  own  stateroom 
and  Belinda,  turning  in  to  the  cubby  hole  which  she 
shared  with  Miss  Perkins,  began  to  make  ready  for  bed, 
but  found  herself  wondering  about  Amelia.  It  wasn't 
like  the  child  to  go  to  bed  while  any  of  her  friends  were 


100  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

still  making  merry.  Perhaps  she  was  not  feeling  well. 
It  would  be  wise  to  make  sure  she  was  all  right. 

Laura  May  opened  the  door  when  Miss  Carewe  rapped, 
and  looked  embarrassed  when  she  saw  the  visitor. 

"Is  Amelia  asleep?"  asked  the  chaperon,  stepping 
into  the  room,  without  invitation. 

"She  isn't  here,  Miss  Carewe,"  Laura  May  stammered. 
"She  must  be  up  on  deck  somewhere.  I've  been  thinking 
she'd  come  in  any  minute.  She  really  did  say  she  was 
going  to  bed,  Miss  Carewe." 

Belinda  did  not  wait  to  discuss  the  matter,  but  hurried 
back  to  her  stateroom,  threw  a  steamer  coat  on  over  her 
dressing  gown  and  was  on  the  top  step  of  the  companion- 
way  when  Amelia  came  in  through  the  doorway,  her 
cheeks  flushed,  her  eyes  shining. 

The  flush  deepened  vividly,  when  she  saw  her  chaperon, 
but  she  plunged  into  the  breach  without  waiting  for 
reproaches. 

"Oh,  Miss  Carewe,  I'm  so  sorry.  I  went  up  on  the 
hurricane  deck  and  I  didn't  know  that  it  was  so  late  and 
that  everybody  had  gone  below." 

"Laura  May  told  me  you  had  gone  down  to  bed." 

"Well  I  did  start,  and  then  I  got  to  talking  and  it  was 
such  a  lovely  night.  I'm  awfully  sorry,  Miss  Carewe." 

"You  are  very  imprudent,  Amelia.  Don't  let  this 
sort  of  thing  happen  again." 

Belinda  was  conscious  that  her  reproof  was  inadequate 


A  TEMPORARY  TRUCE  101 

but  a  twinge  of  conscience  told  her  that  she  herself  had 
been  careless, had  not  fulfilled  the  whole  duty  of  a  chaperon; 
and,  too,  her  mind  was  distracted  from  the  enormity  of 
the  offense  by  speculation  as  to  Amelia's  companion  on 
the  hurricane  deck.  Twenty-four  hours  earlier  she  would 
frankly  have  asked  the  girl  who  had  been  with  her.  Now, 
fearing  the  curiosity  was  personal  rather  than  judicial, 
she  was  provoked  with  herself  for  caring  to  know. 

And  so,  Amelia  got  off  easily,  but  her  chaperon's  curi- 
osity was  satisfied  after  all;  for,  glancing  back  as  she 
followed  the  girl  down  the  steps,  Belinda  saw  Jack 
Courtney  come  in  out  of  the  moonlight.  She  did  not 
wait  to  see  that  Count  de  Brissac  followed  close  upon 
Courtney's  heels. 


CHAPTER  SIX 

A  BLUNDER  AND  A  BREAKFAST 

WHEN  the  steamer  fulfilled  prophecy  by  landing  her  pas- 
sengers at  ten  o'clock  in  the  evening,  Belinda  Carewe  led 
her  little  flock  along  the  dock  with  a  masterful  air  of  self- 
reliance  and  much  inward  perturbation. 

"Talk  about  one's  heart  being  in  one's  throat,"  she 
reflected  miserably.  "It's  much  worse  to  have  it  in 
one's  stomach.  That's  where  it  always  goes  when  one 
is  scared,  but  I  suppose  the  throat  proposition  sounds 
better." 

"It's  awfully  spooky  and  queer,  getting  in  so  late  at 
night,  isn't  it?"  suggested  Laura  May.  Miss  Carewe 
smiled  with  an  excellent  imitation  of  cheerful  unconcern. 

"Why,  I  don't  think  so,"  she  said  serenely.  "We 
wouldn't  have  time  to  see  anything,  anyway,  and  it  would 
be  a  pity  to  waste  good  daylight  on  this  performance." 

And  she  counted  the  hand  luggage  which  the  stewards 
were  piling  in  front  of  her,  as  though  mathematics  were 
a  joy  and  responsibility  mere  balm  for  tired  nerves. 

Jack  Courtney's  bag  was  the  last  deposited  on  the 
heap  and  his  hand  instinctively  sought  his  pocket,  as  the 

102 


A  BLUNDER  AND  A  BREAKFAST         103 

steward  turned  toward  him,  but  the  competent  young 
woman  in  the  smart  blue  travelling  frock  was  before  him. 

"That's  quite  right.  Thank  you,"  she  said  briskly, 
handing  the  man  his  fee. 

"Here,  porter!" 

She  departed  with  the  porter,  in  search  of  the  trunks; 
and  Courtney,  left  with  the  group  beside  the  hand  luggage, 
grinned  ruefully.  He  was  being  personally  conducted. 

The  gospel  of  European  touring  according  to  Miss 
Barnes  demanded  that  some  one  distinctive  mark  should 
be  applied  to  all  the  luggage  of  the  party,  so  that  the 
trunks  might  be  spotted  quickly  even  among  a  host  of 
other  steamer  trunks;  and  in  accordance  with  this  theory, 
labels  upon  which  a  yellow  lion  romped  over  a  vivid  red 
background  had  been  sent  to  the  travellers.  The  device 
had  no  subtle  significance  beyond  indicating  that  Miss 
Barnes's  cousin  manufactured  a  lion  brand  of  pickles. 

Belinda  called  down  blessings  upon  the  head  of  her 
absent  friend  as  she  tracked  the  yellow  beast  through  the 
alphabetical  jungles  of  the  English  custom  house.  The 
B's,  the  C's,  the  L's,  the  N's,  gave  up  their  spoils;  but 
with  the  P's  came  the  disaster.  Mr.  Perkins's  trunk  was 
easily  located,  but  only  one  lonely  flamboyant  lion  enlivened 
the  section  devoted  to  the  P's. 

In  vain  willing  porters  pulled  the  pile  of  luggage  about, 
in  vain  Belinda  bestowed  smiles  and  pleading  upon  vari- 
ous officials  and  even  hinted  at  tears.  They  were  moved, 


104  THJ3  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

those  honest  Englishmen,  they  were  willing,  they  were 
even  eager,  but  no  trunk  marked  M.  E.  Perkins,  Franklin, 
Ohio,  and  presided  over  by  an  ardent  lion  was  to  be  found. 
One  by  one  fellow  passengers  found  their  luggage,  had 
it  examined  and  departed.  Little  by  little  the  crowd 
thinned  out.  Belinda  finally  went  back  to  her  waiting 
charges  and  questioned  Miss  Perkins.  She  had  post- 
poned acknowledgment  of  her  difficulty  as  long  as  she 
could,  but  the  time  was  passing  and  the  London  train 
would  not  wait. 

Miss    Perkins,    much    distressed,    could    only    repeat: 

"M.  E.  Perkins,  Franklin,  Ohio,  on  one  end,  Miss 
Carewe,  and  a  lion  on  the  other  end." 

"Lucky  for  her,  the  trunk's  in  between,"  giggled  Amelia. 

"Could  I  be  of  service,  Miss  Carewe?"  volunteered 
Courtney. 

She  thanked  him  politely  and  indicated  that  she  would 
prefer  his  remaining  where  he  was.  Then  she  and  her 
porter  set  forth  once  more  upon  their  quest. 

Courtney  took  out  his  watch  and  looked  at  it,  eyed  the 
fading  ranks  of  fellow  passengers,  and  wondered  whether 
Miss  Carewe  had  reserved  sleeping  compartments.  He 
had  not  seen  her  make  such  a  move,  but  perhaps  she  had 
attended  to  the  matter  in  advance  and  he  did  not  dare  to 
question  her  or  to  suggest  the  advisability  of  securing  her 
tickets.  She  was  running  the  trip.  He  was  only  a  pas- 
senger. 


A  BLUNDER  AND  A  BREAKFAST        105 

He  did  finally,  however,  stroll  about  among  the  luggage 
and  at  the  end  of  the  dock,  among  the  Ws  his  eye  was 
caught  by  a  steamer  trunk  standing  on  end  behind  a 
huge  wicker  hamper.  He  walked  over  to  it  and  examined 
it  but  a  large  W  stared  him  in  the  face  and  he  was  turn- 
ing away  when  two  porters  appeared,  tilted  the  hamper 
on  end,  and  loaded  it  on  a  truck,  knocking  the  steamer 
trunk  over  in  the  process.  As  it  fell,  Courtney  caught 
a  flash  of  red  and  yellow  and  promptly  investigated.  A 
lion  label  decorated  one  end  of  the  trunk. 

Perplexed  and  wondering,  he  hunted  up  Miss  Carewe 
and  Miss  Perkins,  and  explained  the  odd  coincidence, 
Belinda  merely  looked  surprised.  Miss  Perkins  fell  over 
upon  a  hat  trunk,  overwhelmed  by  emotion. 

"Oh  it's  mine.  It  is  mine,  Miss  Carewe.  I'm  so 
sorry  —  I  never  thought  —  and  I've  made  you  so  much 
trouble.  You  see  I  borrowed  it  from  my  cousin  Mrs 
Watson  and  I  had  a  man  tack  a  tag  with  my  name  on  it, 
over  the  W,  and  of  course  it  never  occurred  to  me  that 
the  tag  could  have  come  off.  Nobody  would  have  thought 
of  that." 

Miss  Carewe's  lips  shut  tightly  for  a  moment.  She 
did  not  look  at  Courtney,  but  led  the  way  toward  the 
errant  trunk.  Probably  she  wrestled  with  herself  in  pas- 
sage, for  when  she  turned  around  her  face  showed  no 
sign  of  irritation  and  she  met  Miss  Perkins's  reiterated 
excuses  with  unruffled  amiability. 


106  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

The  trunks  were  examined,  marked,  handed  over  to 
the  porter. 

"Just  a  moment  now,"  Miss  Carewe  said  encourag- 
ingly. "I'll  get  the  tickets  and  the  train  is  waiting. 
We'll  be  in  bed  and  asleep  in  no  time." 

A  queer  dubious  expression  hovered  about  Courtney's 
eyes  and  mouth,  but  he  said  nothing  and  the  young  woman 
hurried  away,  found  the  ticket  office  and  with  bland 
assurance,  explained  that  she  wanted  sleeping  accommo- 
dations for  six  women  and  two  men,  on  the  London  train. 

"Nothing  left,"  the  agent  announced  curtly. 

"Oh!"  There  was  absolute  despair  in  the  mono- 
syllable. "Oh,  please,  I  must  have  them.  I  have  a 
party.  I  didn't  know  —  I  supposed  there  were  plenty 
of  compartments." 

"Nothing  at  all  left,"  repeated  the  man,  but  having 
put  on  his  glasses  and  looked  at  Belinda  he  omitted  the 
curtness.  There  was  even  a  hint  of  regret  softening  his 
official  British  manner. 

"But  some  of  my  party  are  quite  elderly.  Isn't  there 
anything?  There  must  be  something  one  could  do,  if 
one  would  pay " 

"Stay  in  town  over  night." 

"  Oh,  that  would  mix  things  up  horribly.  You're  sure 
there  isn't  anything  left?" 

"Positive." 

She  turned  away  looking  as  forlorn  as  she  felt;    and 


A  BLUNDER  AND  A  BREAKFAST        107 

Courtney,  who  had  been  watching  the  pantomine  from 
afar,  read  it  accurately  and  cursed  the  absurd  situation 
that  had  prevented  his  attending  to  the  tickets  and  avoid- 
ing the  difficulty.  Already  he  began  to  understand  that 
to  be  personally  conducted  for  three  months  might  perhaps 
require  more  spiritual  grace  than  his  mundane  soul  could 
pay  on  demand. 

With  gloom  on  her  face  and  panic  in  her  heart,  Belinda 
went  in  pursuit  of  her  porter. 

"Always  see  your  luggage  put  on  the  train,"  Miss 
Barnes  had  warned  —  but  she  hadn't  said  a  word  about 
securing  tickets  as  soon  as  one  landed,  and  Belinda  felt 
distinctly  resentful.  Margaret  had  made  her  come  on 
this  ridiculous  trip.  She  ought  to  have  fortified  her 
against  every  possible  emergency.  She  might  have 
known  the  silly  ship  would  land  passengers  in  the 
middle  of  the  night. 

"All  on,  Miss." 

The  porter  was  turning  away  from  the  luggage  van. 
He  looked  good-natured  and  he  was  very  big,  and  then 
he  was  a  man.  Men  had  been  invented  simply  because 
an  all-wise  Providence  foresaw  that  railway  travel  was 
bound  to  come  and  that  there  would  have  to  be  some  one 
to  deal  firmly  with  it.  Belinda  had  always  fancied,  in 
an  indefinite  way,  that  the  creatures  had  been  created  for 
her  diversion,  but  now  she  knew  better.  She  poured 
forth  her  tale  of  woe  to  the  large,  amiable  man,  and  he 


108  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

listened,  wagging  his  head  sympathetically.  A  passing 
guard  stopped  to  listen  too,  and  touched  his  cap  respect- 
fully when  the  story  ended. 

"Beg  pardon,  Miss,  you  can't  get  sleeping  accommo- 
dations ?  I  think  I  can  arrange  for  you.  Some  reservations 
haven't  been  called  for  and  it's  just  about  starting  time. 
How  many  are  there  in  your  party  ?  " 

"Eight,"  said  Belinda,  restraining  an  inclination  to  fall 
upon  his  neck  and  weep  for  joy  and  gratitude. 

"Eight?    I  can  take  care  of  you.    You'll  have  to  hurry." 

Belinda  ran  to  her  waiting  charges. 

"It's  all  right,"  she  said  breathlessly.     "Come  on." 

The  guard  thrust  them  into  a  carriage,  the  porters 
threw  their  hand  luggage  in  after  them,  there  was  a 
ringing  of  bells,  a  final  tumult  and  scurrying,  and  the 
train  pulled  out  of  the  station. 

"  Just  wait  here  until  we  are  fairly  started,"  the  friendly 
guard  had  said.  "Then  I'll  come  back  and  place  you." 

They  waited  for  ten  minutes,  fifteen  minutes,  twenty 
minutes.  At  last  the  guard  appeared,  but  his  face  was 
no  longer  wreathed  in  benevolent  smiles.  A  lively 
embarrassment  rested  upon  it  and  the  look  with  which 
he  met  Belinda's  inquiring  glance  was  deprecatory, 
humble. 

"I'm  afraid  there  has  been  a  mistake,"  he  said  in  apolo- 
getic tones.  "Some  of  those  people  turned  up  after  all. 
I  can  only  give  you  two  doubles  and  two  singles." 


A  BLUNDER  AND  A  BREAKFAST        109 

Belinda  made  no  remark.  What  was  there  to  say  ? 
Her  mind  was  fumbling  helplessly  with  those  two  doubles 
and  two  singles. 

"I  don't  mind  sitting  up,"  Mrs.  Bagby  announced 
promptly. 

"We'd  love  to,"  chorussed  the  girls,  valiantly  struggling 
to  repress  their  yawns.  Mr.  Perkins  and  his  sister  were 
asleep  in  their  respective  corners.  Courtney  eyed  the 
hypochondriac  thoughtfully. 

"Of  course  I  will  not  take  one  of  the  berths,"  he  said 
with  decision,  "and  Mr.  Perkins  would  not  be  willing  to 
allow  any  of  your  ladies  to  sit  up  all  night " 

Miss  Carewe  interrupted  him  brusquely. 

"I  will  stay  in  the  day  coach  of  course,"  she  said  with 
a  firmness  which  left  no  room  for  argument.  "Mr. 
Perkins  and  his  sister  will  take  the  two  singles,  the  girls 
can  have  one  of  the  doubles  and  Mrs.  Bagby  and  Mrs. 
Nicholson  the  other.  That's  settled." 

She  turned  to  the  guard. 

"Can  one  go  in  to  the  other  car  now?"  she  asked. 

"But  the  sleeping  compartments  are  in  this  carriage, 
Miss.  This  is  the  smoking  room,  but  you  will  not  be 
disturbed.  One  does  not  smoke  in  the  night.  You  and 
the  young  gentleman  can  be  quite  comfortable." 

Belinda  started  in  dismay.  It  had  not  occurred  to 
her  before  that  she  and  Courtney  might  have  to  sit 
up  together. 


110  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

"Isn't  there  an  ordinary  day  coach?"  she  asked 
eagerly. 

"No  place  vacant,  Miss." 

She  shot  a  glance  at  Courtney.  He  was  staring  out 
into  the  night. 

"But  it's  most  unpleasant  for  you  to  sit  up  all  night. 
You'll  be  ill."  Mrs.  Nicholson's  voice  was  almost 
tearful. 

Belinda  rose,  laughing.  Since  one  was  in  for  a 
disagreeable  situation  one  might  as  well  accept  it  philo- 
sophically. 

"I  can  sleep  like  a  top  in  an  ordinary  chair,  and  these 
high-backed  seats  will  be  positively  luxurious.  Wake 
the  Perkins  family,  will  you,  Mrs.  Bagby,  and  I'll  see 
you  all  safely  bestowed  in  your  quarters." 

Courtney  was  left  alone  in  the  smoking  compartment 
and  his  solemn  gravity  made  way  for  something  twixt 
wrath  and  mirth. 

It  was  an  outrage  that  she  should  be  let  in  for  an  uncom- 
fortable night,  but  it  was  funny,  by  Jove,  it  really  was 
funny.  She  had  been  snubbing  him  and  avoiding  him 
all  day  long.  He  hadn't  been  able  to  get  a  moment 
with  her.  Now  the  fates  had  taken  matters  into  their 
own  hands  and  the  fates,  it  seemed,  were  farceurs  —  but 
he  would  need  his  steamer  rug.  The  chances  were  that 
the  atmosphere  of  the  smoking  compartment  would  be 
chilly  —  even  Arctic. 


A  BLUNDER  AND  A  BREAKFAST        111 

And  he  was  right.  The  drop  in  temperature  arrived 
with  Miss  Carewe,  but  Courtney  was  becoming  resigned 
to  sudden  changes.  He  even  found  the  cold  wave 
bracing. 

"Rotten  shame  you  have  to  put  in  the  night  this  way," 
he  said  with  friendly  sympathy.  "If  the  seat  arms 
turned  up  as  some  do,  things  wouldn't  be  so  bad. 
The  seat  would  answer  for  a  couch;  but  these  arms 
don't  budge." 

"I'm  quite  comfortable,  thank  you." 

Civility  at  a  temperature  of  about  five  degrees  above 
zero. 

Courtney  unstrapped  a  bundle  of  steamer  rugs,  threw 
one  of  the  rugs  across  Belinda's  knees  and  another  across 
his  own. 

"No  reason  why  we  should  freeze  to  death  with  all 
these  warm  things  at  hand." 

There  was  profound  thankfulness  in  his  tone  and 
Belinda  looked  at  him  suspiciously,  but  his  smile  was 
childlike  and  bland.  Probably  he  didn't  mean  anything 
save  a  reference  to  the  coolness  of  the  English  night,  and 
even  if  he  did  —  well,  there  was  something  in  the  young 
woman's  nature  which  responded  to  audacity.  A  cring- 
ing man  was  hateful. 

Courtney  folded  up  the  softest  of  the  rugs  and 
leaning  toward  her,  deftly  tucked  it  into  the  corner 
beside  her. 


112  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

"You'll  find  that  better,  I  think.  Didn't  any  of  our 
crowd  have  cushions?" 

"We  left  them  on  the  steamer  with  some  of  the  rugs, 
to  be  held  for  us  at  Cherbourg." 

"Oh,  yes.  Too  bad.  We  could  use  them  now.  I 
hope  you  will  be  able  to  sleep." 

He  pulled  his  cap  down  over  his  ears,  turned  up  his 
coat  collar  and  burrowed  back  into  his  corner.  Evi- 
dently he  did  not  intend  to  bother  her  with  conversation. 
She  was  thankful  for  that. 

The  train  sped  on  through  the  night  and  she  watched 
a  strange  world  of  silver  lights  and  black  shadows  racing 
past  the  window  until,  gradually,  field  and  hamlet  and 
forest  melted  into  a  dream  of  sailing  in  an  enchanted 
boat,  along  a  moonlight  path  across  an  inky  sea.  A  yel- 
low lion,  in  the  bow,  was  grinding  out  the  Valse  Blue 
from  an  organ  that  looked  oddly  like  a  steamer  trunk  and 
everything  was  going  very  pleasantly  indeed,  until  she 
happened  to  look  around  and  sa.w  that  she  was  being 
pursued  by  a  railway  carriage  flying  the  Jolly  Roger  and 
steered  by  a  Pirate  who  was  a  cross  between  the  Peter 
Pan  article  and  a  British  ticket  agent.  She  knew  that 
there  was  no  hope  for  her  unless  she  could  cash  an  Express 
Company  check,  and  she  gave  herself  up  for  lost,  but 
just  then  the  yellow  lion  wrapped  a  big  rug  around  her 
and  said,  "Poor  little  girl."  That  was  very  comforting, 
though  the  Pirate  was  making  a  noise  like  a  steam  engine 


A  BLUNDER  AND  A  BREAKFAST        113 

and  she  fully  realized  that  he  wouldn't  spare  her  unless 
she  told  him,  at  once,  how  many  sixpences  there  were 
in  a  guinea. 

She  couldn't  do  that  under  any  circumstances;  so  she 
counted  the  hand  luggage  and  waited,  and  just  as  the  boat 
was  sinking  and  the  lion  was  waltzing  off  over  the  water 
with  the  steamer  trunk  under  his  arm,  she  found  herself 
staring  drowsily  out  at  high,  dirty  walls,  curtained  with 
sickly  gray  fog  and  punctuated  by  lighted  windows. 

The  train  was  standing  still  in  the  station,  porters  were 
wandering  about  the  platform,  a  few  sleepy  -  looking 
travellers  hurried  here  and  there  in  the  wan  light  of  the 
waking  day. 

"  Good  morning." 

For  a  moment  she  thought  it  was  the  Pirate,  though 
the  voice  sounded  like  the  voice  that  had  said  "  Poor  little 
girl."  Perhaps  it  was  the  lion. 

She  struggled  valiantly  with  a  benumbing  drowsiness; 
and,  quite  awake  at  last,  turned  from  the  window  to  her 
fellow  passenger.  He  was  smiling  at  her,  friendly- wise; 
and,  on  the  whole,  she  preferred  him  to  either  the  lion 
or  the  Pirate,  so  her  good  morning  was  almost  gracious. 

"You  slept?" 

"Yes  —  and  dreamed."  She  laughed  a  little  at  the 
remembrance  of  the  wonderful  dream. 

"Bad  dreams,  I'm  afraid.  You  cried  out  once  as 
though  you  were  frightened." 


114  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

The  voice  was  very  much  like  the  voice  in  the  dream. 

"  Well,  he  was  a  very  dreadful  Pirate,"  she  said  plain- 
tively. 

"Poor  little  girl!" 

Oh,  there  was  no  doubt  about  it.  That  was  the  voice, 
and  it  was  very  impertinent  of  him  to  pity  her.  She 
tried  to  feel  offended  and  haughty,  but  in  the  clammy 
cheerlessness  of  the  London  dawn,  it  was  very  difficult  to 
resent  sympathy,  even  though  the  sympathy  was  imperti- 
nent; so  she  passed  the  remark  over  and  snuggled  down 
among  the  folds  of  her  rug.  Suddenly  it  occurred  to  her 
that  no  warm  rug  had  been  wrapped  about  her  shoulders 
when  she  went  to  sleep.  There  had  been  one  across  her 
knees.  It  was  still  there;  but  this  other.  How  could 
he  have  done  it  without  waking  her?  He  was  very  offi- 
cious, this  large,  cheerful  person  —  and  presuming  — 
but  the  rug  was  a  comfort.  She  would  pass  it  over  with 
the  impertinent  sympathy. 

"  We're  in  London  ?  "  she  asked. 

"Yes;  we  got  in  some  time  ago." 

"What  time  is  it?" 

"  Five  o'clock." 

"I  suppose  I  won't  dare  call  the  others  before  seven. 
They'll  be  wrecks  all  day  if  I  do.  Maybe  I  might  make 
it  half-past  six." 

"Think  of  Mr.  Perkins's  heart,"  Courtney  advised 
gravely. 


A  BLUNDER  AND  A  BREAKFAST         115 

"  I'm  busy  thinking  of  his  disposition." 

"Well,  we  will  go  out  and  get  some  breakfast  now. 
There's  no  reason  why  we  should  wait,  and  there's  a  very 
jolly  little  place  right  across  from  the  station." 

Belinda  dissented  promptly.  She  did  not  want  break- 
fast. Really  one  might  imagine  this  man  was  conducting 
the  party.  The  thing  mustn't  be  allowed  to  go  on. 

"But  a  cup  of  coffee  would  be  very  encouraging,"  he 
urged. 

"Go  and   have  one,   Mr.   Courtney.     I  shall  wait." 

He  subsided. 

The  time  dragged  on,  leaden-footed,  and  Belinda  gazed 
out  of  the  window.  There  was  something  frightfully 
depressing  about  that  station.  She  loathed  the  place. 
She  was  shivery  and  tired,  and  empty.  Yes,  she  was 
empty.  She  had  been  too  excited  about  landing  to  eat 
much  dinner  the  night  before. 

Through  one  of  the  nearest  lighted  windows,  she  could 
see  a  man,  sitting  at  a  desk  and  eating  his  breakfast  from 
a  tray.  She  could  almost  smell  the  coffee.  Or  was  it 
tea  ?  Yes,  probably  it  was  tea,  but  it  was  hot.  The  cup 
steamed  as  he  lifted  it  to  his  lips.  A  cup  of  something 
that  steamed  would  make  life  endurable.  And  she 
might  have  had  it.  She  would  have  suggested  break- 
fast herself  if  the  man  had  only  waited;  but,  of  course, 
she  couldn't  allow  him  to  dictate,  and  now  she  couldn't 
fall  in  with  his  idea  after  having  been  so  firm  about 


116  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

it  at  the  start.     If  he  had   even   asked   her  opinion  - 
but  he  hadn't.     He  had  simply  stated  that  they  would 
go  to  breakfast. 

She  shivered  miserably.  Why  in  the  world  should 
people  want  to  travel  in  England!  One  was  always 
uncomfortable  there.  Cold  and  dampness  and  poor  beds 
and  bad  food!  The  toast  was  always  cold.  And,  at 
the  word,  her  heart  went  out  toward  that  cold  toast  in  a 
wave  of  longing.  She  could  see  it  waiting  in  its  rack, 
and  there  would  be  orange  marmalade.  Even  eating  a 
soft-boiled  egg  from  the  shell  had  no  terrors  for  her.  She 
yearned  for  the  fray.  As  for  the  coffee  — 

"  Miss  Carewe,  I  do  wish  you  would  consent  to  having 
some  breakfast.  I  would  feel  like  a  brute  going  off  alone 
and  leaving  you  here,  and  I'm  mortally  hungry." 

She  made  an  effort  to  conceal  her  frantic  joy. 

"  Oh,  well,  if  I'm  keeping  you  from  your  coffee." 

The  tone  was  amiably  indifferent,  but  she  rose  with 
suspicious  alacrity.  He  might  refuse  to  accept  her  sac- 
rifice. 

A  sleepy  old  waiter  woke  to  effusive  civility  and  fatherly 
interest  when  he  welcomed  the  young  couple.  Here  was 
a  tip,  sure,  generous,  providential.  He  hovered  about 
them,  he  consulted  preferences,  he  offered  deprecatory 
but  expert  advice,  he  deplored  necessary  delay.  He 
made  fervent  promises.  His  comprehending  smile  was  a 
benediction,  a  "bless  you  my  children." 


A  BLUNDER  AND  A  BREAKFAST        117 

Could  madame  fancy  muffins  —  toasted  muffins  ?  She 
blushed  under  the  madame  but  welcomed  the  muffins. 

And  a  bit  of  kipper  now  ?  The  kipper  was  very  fine  — 
or  a  bloater,  with  a  rasher  of  bacon  on  the  side.  Kipper  ? 
Ah,  very  good,  very  good.  And  would  madame  have  an 
egg?  No?  Perhaps  the  gentleman?  No  eggs?  Very 
well,  and  coffee  of  course?  Certainly.  The  Americans 
always  preferred  coffee. 

Would  the  gentleman  like  to  see  the  Times  ?  Oh, 
of  course  not. 

His  tone  apologized,  admitted  his  stupidity  in  not  under- 
standing, at  once,  that  the  couple  had  not  yet  reached 
the  paper-at-the-breakfast-table  stage  of  matrimony.  He 
deposited  tne  coffee  tray  before  Belinda  with  a  benevolent 
air  and  smiled  appreciatively  when  she  asked  Courtney 
how  many  lumps  he  would  take.  Whereupon,  she  put 
four  lumps  in  the  cup  instead  of  two  and  blushed  in  a 
guilty  fashion  that  made  the  ministering  angel  beam  upon 
her  more  benevolently  than  ever  and  withdraw  to  a 
discreet  distance. 

But  the  kipper  was  good  and  the  muffins  were  delect- 
able, and  the  coffee  put  heart  of  grace  into  the  fagged  little 
woman.  As  for  Courtney  —  he  was  radiant.  The  tete- 
a-t£te  breakfast  made  him  dream  dreams  and  see  visions 
and  the  waiter's  evident  misconception  roused  no  wrath 
in  his  soul. 

Soaring  optimism  made  him  bold;    and,  as  Belinda 


118  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

finished  her  coffee  and  set  the  cup  down  with  an  air  of 
finality,  he  leaned  forward  across  the  table  and  asked 
a  question. 

"  Miss  Carewe,  have  I  done  anything  to  offend  you  ?  " 

She  stiffened  perceptibly.  For  the  moment  she  had 
forgotten  his  heiress-hunting  proclivities  and  accepted 
him  as  an  agreeable  companion,  but  now  her  resentment 
came  back  with  a  rush. 

"Nothing  whatever,  Mr.  Courtney,"  she  said  coolly, 
crisply.  "Will  you  pay  the  waiter?  I  will  settle  with 
you  on  the  train." 

Courtney's  air  castles  tumbled  with  a  crash,  the  rose 
colour  faded  out  of  his  perspective.  The  remark  he  made 
inwardly  was  unfit  for  publication  —  but  he  pulled  him- 
self together,  paid  the  smiling  old  man  whose  "Thank 
you  sir.  A  pleasant  journey,  rnadame,"  sounded  like  a 
paternal  blessing,  and  led  the  way  back  to  the  train. 

Seated  once  more  in  their  compartment,  while  Court- 
ney stood  beside  the  open  door,  Miss  Carewe  took  out 
her  purse,  also  a  neat  note  book  and  pencil. 

"Our  breakfasts  were  how  much,  Mr.  Courtney?" 
she  asked  with  her  best  businesslike  air. 

The  young  man  scowled  sulkily. 

"  I  can't  see  that  it  is  necessary  for  you  to  know,  Miss 
Carewe.  You  breakfasted  at  my  invitation." 

She  shook  her  head  decisively. 

"  That  won't  do  at  all,  Mr.  Courtney.     We  must  keep 


A  BLUNDER  AND  A  BREAKFAST         119 

things  on  a  business  basis.  I  should  have  paid  for  the 
breakfasts  of  the  party,  in  any  event;  and  it  doesn't 
make  the  slightest  difference  whether  we  all  eat  together  or 
separately.  Now,  how  much  do  I  owe  you  for  the  two 
breakfasts  ?  " 

He  maintained  an  eloquent  silence. 

There  was  a  hint  of  wicked  enjoyment  behind  the 
judicial  calmness  of  Miss  Carewe's  expression. 

"  You  will  make  things  very  difficult  for  me,  if  you  force 
me  to  make  exceptions,"  she  insisted.  "  You  must  remem- 
ber that  you  have  already  paid  me  for  your  regular  meals, 
and  this  was  one  of  the  regular  meals.  You  really  must 
tell  me  what  it  cost." 

"I'll  be  hanged  if  I  will!" 

The  reply  was  in  the  nature  of  an  explosion,  and  whirl- 
ing about,  the  exasperated  man  stalked  angrily  away 
down  the  platform. 

Belinda  viewed  his  departing  back  with  profound  satis- 
faction. 

"This  personal  conducting  does  afford  its  moments," 
she  remarked  complacently  as  she  went  to  awaken  her 
sleeping  flock. 


CHAPTER  SEVEN 

JACK  COURTNEY  INSISTS  UPON  SHOWING  AMELIA  THE 
FESTIVE  SIDE  OF  LONDON 

ONCE  installed  in  London  quarters,  the  Carewe  party 
took  up  its  systematic  round  of  sightseeing  and  the  days 
were  crowded  full. 

Belinda  began  with  the  Abbey.  The  A's  ought  to 
come  first,  she  reasoned,  and  then  everybody  was  fairly 
sure  to  approve  of  the  Abbey,  and  she  was  too  tired  after 
a  night  of  fleeing  from  pirates  to  pursuade  seven  people 
that  they  were  enjoying  what  they  didn't  in  the  least 
want  to  do. 

On  the  whole,  the  first  venture  was  a  success,  though 
Mrs.  Bagby  stoutly  maintained  that  she  was  disappointed 
and  surprised. 

"  It's  real  interesting  in  spots,"  she  admitted,  "  but  it's 
the  most  cluttered  up  place  I  ever  saw.  The  Bishop  had 
better  hire  somebody  to  sweep  the  mess  all  out  and  make 
nice,  clean,  bright  Sunday-school  rooms  of  the  whole 
place.  That'd  do  the  living  some  good.  I  don't  hold 
with  burying  folks  in  churches  anyway.  Things  weren't 
intended  so.  You  can  just  put  me  out  in  the  open 

120 


THE  FESTIVE  SIDE  OF  LONDON         121 

and  give  me  a  chance  to  grow  up  into  flowers  or 
grass  or  weeds." 

"  But,  my  dear  Mrs.  Bagby,  think  of  the  honour  of  a 
place  here!"  Mr.  Perkins  was  aghast. 

"Honour  fiddlesticks!  Look  at  Elizabeth  and  Mary 
Queen  of  Scots  over  there.  They'd  have  been  tickled 
if  they'd  known  they  were  going  to  be  piled  in  here,  side 
by  side,  wouldn't  they?  I  wouldn't  trust  them  not  to 
begin  calling  each  other  names  when  they  rise  at  the  last 
day  and  find  themselves  crowded  in  together.  No,  sir. 
I'll  just  take  a  plain  stone  or  a  broken  column  or  some- 
thing in  God's  out  of  doors.  You  can  have  Westminster 
Abbey!" 

She  was  alone  in  her  heresy.  Mr.  Perkins  revelled 
in  historic  data.  His  sister  absorbed  the  wisdom  that 
flowed  from  his  lips,  Mrs.  Nicholson  fluttered  excitedly 
from  tomb  to  tomb  and  dropped  a  furtive  tear  in  the 
poet's  corner. 

"  Isn't  it  wonderful  to  think  their  songs  won  them  places 
here!"  she  sighed.  "I've  always  wanted  to  see  the 
poet's  corner." 

"It's  lovely,"  Amelia  assented.  "I'll  feel  so  much 
better  acquainted  with  them  all  than  I  did  just  from 
studying  about  them,  Miss  Carewe.  It'll  give  me  a  sort 
of  a  thrill  in  literature  class  to  think  that  I've  stood  by 
the  tombs  of  so  many  of  them.  I  think  it's  a  splendid 
idea  to  have  them  all  buried  here  in  a  bunch,  so  you 


122  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

don't  have  to  go  hunting  around  everywhere  to  stand  by 
their  tombs." 

Laura  May  nodded  vigorously.  "Kings  and  queens 
too,"  she  added.  "I  never  did  realize  they  were  real 
before.  They  just  seemed  like  things  in  books;  but  if 
they  hadn't  been  alive  they  couldn't  have  died  and  been 
buried  here.  I  feel  the  way  I  did  when  I  first  went  to 
New  York.  I'd  be  walking  along,  you  know,  and  all  of 
a  sudden  I'd  come  to  the  place  where  they  made  the  kind 
of  cold  cream  I'd  always  used,  or  Lydia  Pinkham's  pills 
or  Peter  Thompson  suits  or  something.  It  seemed  as 
if  I'd  just  gone  to  visit  people  I'd  known  all  my  life,  and 
it's  kind  of  that  way  about  the  poets  and  queens." 

"Travel  is  a  wonderful  educator,"  Belinda  remarked 
gravely  to  Courtney.  Her  eyes  were  dancing  and  she 
felt  the  need  of  some  one  with  a  sense  of  humor.  "  You 
don't  seem  to  be  using  your  Baedeker  and  your  emotions 
as  much  as  you  should." 

"  I'm  a  saturated  solution,  Miss  Carewe,"  he  responded 
promptly.  "I've  supped  full  of  dates  and  biographies. 
My  feeble  intellect  won't  take  up  any  more.  It's  barely 
capable  of  welcoming  the  luncheon  hour." 

"  I'm  starving,"  declared  Amelia,  losing  all  interest  in 
buried  poets.  "Let's  go  to  a  chop  house,  Miss  Carewe. 
They  always  go  to  a  chop  house  and  get  grilled  bones,  in 
books.  I'm  crazy  to  see  what  a  grilled  bone  is  —  but  I 
want  something  with  meat  on  it  first." 


THE  FESTIVE  SIDE  OF  LONDON         123 

They  went  forth  in  search  of  a  chop  house,  without  delay. 
In  the  course  of  the  Barnes-Carewe  tours  Miss  Barnes 
had  formulated  one  theory  which  had  proved  invaluable. 

"  The  thing  to  do  is  to  feed  them  early  and  often,"  she 
had  explained  to  Belinda.  "No  matter  what  they  are 
doing  when  meal  time  comes  or  what  they'll  miss  by 
leaving,  take  them  away  and  feed  them.  And  if  they 
get  cranky  and  difficult  in  between  meals  get  them  some- 
thing to  eat  then  —  an  ice  or  a  sandwich  or  a  cup  of  tea  or 
something.  It  costs  money,  but  it's  amazing  to  see  how 
it  promotes  amiability.  If  you  can  get  them  something 
queer  and  peculiar  to  the  place  where  you  are,  so  much 
the  better.  I've  known  Grassmere  gingerbread  to  save 
a  disastrous  day  and  Dobistorte  kept  one  of  our  parties 
from  breaking  up  in  a  riot  in  Vienna.  Feed  them  when- 
ever there's  the  slightest  murmur  of  fatigue  or  discontent, 
Belinda." 

So  Belinda  turned  her  back  on  Westminster  Abbey 
and  went  in  search  of  English  mutton  chops  which  pro- 
moted a  unanimous  friendliness  toward  England  in  general 
and  London  in  particular. 

"  Aren't  we  having  a  heavenly  time  ?  "  bubbled  Amelia 
rapturously,  as  the  waiter  took  away  her  chop  plate  and 
presented  her  with  the  grilled  bone  for  which  her  soul 
had  yearned. 

"  I  haven't  an  idea  how  to  eat  this  thing,  but  I'm  sure 
I'll  like  it.  I've  just  loved  everything  so  far." 


124  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

Fortified  by  luncheon,  they  did  the  Tower  and  St.  Paul's 
and  the  Temple,  and  then  recuperated  from  the  triple 
strain  by  having  tea  at  the  Savoy. 

"I  don't  think  grilled  bones  stay  by  you  very  well," 
Amelia  announced,  as  she  gazed  at  the  tea-drinking  crowd 
and  recklessly  consumed  small  cakes.  "I  was  getting 
perfectly  wolfish.  Maybe  it's  because  sightseeing  burns 
up  your  oxygen  too  fast  or  something  and  you  have  to 
keep  putting  in  fuel.  A  man  lectured  about  that  sort 
of  thing  once  in  physics  class,  but  he  was  talking  about 
the  effect  hard  studying  had  and  I  didn't  bother  to  listen 
much.  It  didn't  seem  as  if  I  needed  to  know  what  would 
happen  if  I  studied  too  hard,  because  I  didn't  have  the 
faintest  idea  of  doing  it.  This  needing  tea  so  much 
made  me  think  about  the  lecture.  Sightseeing  does  tire 
you,  doesn't  it  ?  " 

"But  it  is  getting  tired  in  such  a  good  cause,  my  dear." 
Mrs.  Nicholson  was  weary  but  ecstatic.  "It  has  been 
such  a  lovely  day,  Miss  Carewe,  I  don't  know  what  I've 
enjoyed  the  most  —  the  Abbey  I  think;  but  there  was 
something  wonderfully  impressive  about  those  nine  dark 
marble  figures  in  full  armour  lying  in  the  Temple  Church. 
It  seems  queer  to  think  the  Knights  Templar  lodge  is 
given  over  to  lawyers.  That's  the  funny  thing  about 
London.  I  don't  see  how  the  people  can  get  used  to  living 
their  little  lives  and  carrying  on  their  petty  business  right 
around  among  the  great  dead  and  in  the  historic  spots." 


THE  FESTIVE  SIDE  OF  LONDON         125 

"  Well,  you  couldn't  keep  on  being  all  worked  up  over 
a  place  if  you  were  selling  fish  there  every  day,  and  there's 
no  use  in  our  trying  to  be  historic  yet,  because  we  can't, 
so  we  may  just  as  well  go  on  living  our  own  way  and  not 
bother  about  tombs  and  spots  except  when  we're  travelling 
on  purpose."  Amelia's  tone  expressed  content  with 
modern  conditions. 

"It's  all  awfully  interesting,"  she  went  on,  reflectively, 
as  she  took  another  eclair,  "but  I'm  glad  I'm  not  historic. 
It  must  have  been  horrid.  If  we  were  back  in  old  times 
now,  every  body 'd  be  shouting,  'off  with  his  head,'  like 
the  Queen  in  'Alice,'  or  putting  poison  in  everybody  else's 
tea  or  stabbing  the  waiters  or  something.  And  now 
nobody's  doing  anything  worse,  than  flirting  and  it's  so 
nice  and  comfy  just  to  sit  here  eating  chocolate  Eclairs 
and  knowing  that  nothing  dreadful  is  going  to  happen." 

"Something  dreadful  will  happen  if  you  keep  on  eat- 
ing eclairs,  Amelia,"  the  girl's  chaperon  commented  as 
she  called  the  waiter  and  paid  the  bill,  Courtney's  gorge 
rising  the  while,  as  it  always  did  during  the  bill-paying 
process. 

That  unfortunate  young  man  writhed  many  a  time 
during  the  days  that  followed.  He  had  entered  hardily 
upon  his  adventure  with  no  thought  beyond  the  necessity 
of  being  near  the  lady  of  his  heart;  and,  as  a  realization 
of  the  price  he  was  to  pay  for  that  privilege  was  gradu- 
ally borne  in  upon  him,  he  admitted  that  the  proximity 


126  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

came  high.  To  have  divinity  paying  for  his  chops  and 
tea  and  tram  rides  and  admission  tickets  was  the  high 
note  of  discomfort,  but  there  were  minor  inconveniences, 
mere  earth  claims  that  did  violence  to  the  flesh  rather 
than  the  spirit.  He  was  fastidious,  this  young  New  Yorker, 
with  a  cultivated  taste  for  the  luxuries  of  life.  Of  course 
when  one  happened  to  be  on  a  ranch  or  in  the  woods  or 
in  any  other  place  beyond  reach  of  those  luxuries,  one 
got  along  without  them  and  had  a  corking  good  time 
doing  it;  but  to  be  in  the  world  of  extravagant  living 
and  not  of  it,  was  trying,  and  to  have  one's  pockets  full 
of  money  and  no  chance  to  spend  it  was  irony  of  an  exas- 
perating sort. 

Mrs.  Forbes- Wattles 's  boarding  house  was  far  above 
the  average,  as  London  boarding  houses  go;  but  a  London 
boarding  house  was  a  new  experience  for  Courtney  and 
even  the  landlady's  hyphen  could  not  reconcile  him  to 
her  stewed  rhubarb  and  gooseberry  tarts;  nor  could  the 
fact  that  the  house  was  "within  a  stone's  throw  of  the 
British  Museum"  (see  circular)  console  him  for  an  omni- 
present odour  and  a  ubiquitous  flavour  of  boiled  cauli- 
flower. Memories  of  Claridge's  and  the  club  tantalized 
him  and  invited  him,  but  he  clung  valiantly  to  his  travel- 
ling companions. 

After  all,  one  should  be  willing  to  mortify  the  flesh  in 
service  of  one's  lady  and  a  dinner  of  boarding-house  herbs 
flavoured  with  cauliflower,  with  Belinda  across  the  table, 


THE  FESTIVE  SIDE  OF  LONDON         127 

was  better  than  any  variety  of  stalled  ox  in  gilded  loneliness. 
If  she  could  only  be  kind  instead  of  polite,  Paradise  itself 
would  pale  to  sombre  dreariness  beside  the  rose-hued  beat- 
itude of  an  evening  in  the  Forbes- Wattles  drawing  room. 

But  then,  if  she  were  kind,  they  wouldn't  stay  in  that 
sepulchral  drawing  room.  They  would  go  out  and  spend 
the  money  that  was  burning  holes  in  his  pockets.  There 
were  so  many  places  to  which  he  would  like  to  take  her, 
so  many  things  he  would  like  to  do  for  her;  but  she 
wouldn't  go  with  him.  He  knew  without  rash  experi- 
ment just  how  she  would  snuff  out  such  a  proposition 
as  that. 

It  was  Amelia  who  offered  him  a  key  to  the  situation. 

"Everything  is  lovely  except  the  evenings,"  she  said 
discontentedly,  one  night,  when  she  and  Laura  May, 
Miss  Carewe  and  Courtney  were  sitting  on  the  overgrown 
red  plush  chairs  of  the  drawing  room,  after  the  older 
members  of  the  party  had  said  good  night. 

"I  just  hate  the  evenings.  Everybody's  tired  and 
stupid  and  there's  nothing  to  do  but  go  to  bed,  and  it 
seems  perfectly  silly  to  be  going  to  bed  when  there  must 
be  such  a  lot  of  interesting  things  going  on,  out  there." 

She  waved  her  hand  vaguely  toward  the  window. 

Miss  Carewe  sighed  a  quick  response  before  she  remem- 
bered that  she  was  a  serious-minded  person  with  tastes 
above  frivolity.  The  evenings  had  always  been  exas- 
perating on  these  tours  of  hers.  It  was  ridiculous  to  have 


128  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

been  abroad  five  times  and  to  have  missed  so  much,  but 
one  needed  a  man  for  evening  larks,  a  real  man,  young 
and  worldly  wise  and  extravagant.  The  Barnes-Carewe 
men  had  always  been  old  and  economical.  One  stayed 
at  home  and  played  cribbage  with  them. 

Courtney  caught  the  sigh,  though  it  died  violently  in 
a  virtuous  remark  about  the  value  of  beauty  sleep;  and 
that  night,  after  he  had  gone  to  his  room,  he  attacked  the 
problem  of  giving  a  young  woman  a  good  time  in  spite 
of  herself. 

Miss  Carewe  wouldn't  allow  him  to  take  her  anywhere. 
There  was  no  use  in  asking  her,  but  surely  she  wouldn't 
be  hard-hearted  enough  to  prevent  his  taking  Amelia  and, 
of  course,  she  wouldn't  allow  the  girl  to  go  unchaperoned. 

A  consuming  desire  to  show  the  fair  Amelia  the  festive 
side  of  London  swelled  in  his  heart.  He  would  have  to 
take  Laura  May  too,  but  that  would  be  all  right.  Four 
was  a  better  number  than  three  and  the  two  girls  would 
entertain  each  other  when  it  was  necessary  for  him  to 
be  civil  to  the  chaperon.  A  fellow  had  to  be  civil  to  a 
chaperon. 

But  he  must  devote  himself  to  Amelia.  It  must  be 
thoroughly  understood  that  she  was  the  one  he  delighted 
to  honour.  Any  suspicion  of  his  real  motives  would  queer 
the  deal  altogether  with  Miss  Carewe.  Funny  how  she 
held  that  orchard  grudge  against  him.  It  must  be  that  — 
and  his  joining  her  party.  It  was  embarrassing  for 


THE  FESTIVE  SIDE  OF  LONDON         129 

her.  He  admitted  that,  but  she  needn't  be  such  a  red 
Indian  about  it. 

The  next  morning  he  invited  Amelia  to  go  to  the  the- 
atre and  have  supper  at  the  Carlton  afterward.  She 
was  to  ask  Laura  May  and  her  chaperon  to  join  the  party. 

She  asked  them  and  they  accepted.  Laura  May  with 
effusion,  Belinda  after  a  demurrer  overborne  by  Amelia's 
desperate  entreaties. 

"It  would  be  cruel  of  you,  Miss  Carewe,  positively 
cruel  —  when  we  are  invited  and  we  may  never  be  in 
London  again,  and  I  haven't  had  a  chance  to  wear  my 
blue  frock,  and  the  old  folks  go  to  bed  right  after  dinner 
anyway.  You  couldn't  be  unkind  enough  to  say  'no.'" 

And  Belinda  was  not  unkind  enough.  Perhaps  she 
too  felt  a  longing  for  the  fleshpots  and  Philistia. 

The  Carewe  table  attracted  considerable  attention  from 
the  Forbes- Wattles  diners  that  evening.  The  stout  lady 
from  Toledo,  with  the  two  plain  daughters,  confided  to 
the  Vermont  school  teacher  who  sat  next  her,  that  she 
considered  it  ridiculous  for  travellers  to  carry  party  dresses 
around  with  them  and  that,  as  for  low  necks  —  well, 
going  to  the  theatre  in  low-neck  dresses  wouldn't  be  tol- 
erated among  the  best  people  in  Toledo. 

But  the  two  radiantly  pretty  girls  in  their  dainty  Dutch 
neck  frocks  and  the  still  prettier  chaperon,  with  her  more 
sophisticated  evening  garb,  were  scarcely  calculated  to 
scandalize  the  London  elect;  and  Courtney,  looking  the 


130  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

trio  over  with  a  proprietary  pride,  felt  that  pleasant  glow 
which  warms  the  man  who  realizes  that  his  women  folk 
are  a  credit  to  him. 

"Heaven  help  all  susceptible  Englishmen  to-night," 
he  said,  as  Mrs.  Nicholson,  Mrs.  Bagby  and  Miss 
Perkins  excitedly  tucked  the  girls  into  their  coats,  while 
Mr.  Perkins  looked  on  with  something  approaching 
enthusiasm. 

"I  feel  that  I  am  flaunting  the  stars  and  stripes  in  the 
face  of  the  British  public." 

He  waved  the  flag  sturdily.  Even  Belinda  was  forced 
to  admit  that  he  did  things  well. 

There  was  a  box  at  the  Lyceum  which  became  so 
tremendously  decorative  after  Courtney's  party  took 
possession  of  it,  that  it  divided  attention  with  the  stage, 
and  an  obsequious  head  waiter  led  them  to  a  reserved 
table  at  the  Carlton  with  an  empressement  which  argued 
remembrance  of  past  munificence  and  a  lively  sense  of 
benefits  to  come.  That  the  remembrance  circled  round 
many  a  gay  supper  and  dinner  and  that  this  imposing 
head  waiter  was  an  old  and  tried  friend  of  Courtney's 
Belinda  did  not  know,  but  she  liked  the  atmosphere 
of  solicitude  and  homage,  and  Amelia  confided  to 
Laura  May  privately  that  she  would  never,  never  marry 
a  man  who  wasn't  the  kind  a  head  waiter  would  run 
to  meet. 

"It's  just  a  certain  kind  of  a  look  that  does  it,"  she 


THE  FESTIVE  SIDE  OF  LONDON         131 

explained.  "Sort  of  an  always-have-had-it,  expect-to 
get-it,  don't-care-what-I-have-to-pay-for-it  look.  Mr. 
Courtney  has  it." 

"Count  de  Brissac  had  it  too,"  suggested  Laura  May. 

A  swift  red  tinged  Amelia's  cheeks. 

"It's  a  shame  he  had  to  go  on  to  Paris.  Wouldn't 
it  have  been  fun  if  he  had  been  coming  to  London,"  Laura 
May  added;  but  Amelia  was  apparently  absorbed  in 
watching  the  crowd  that  was  filling  the  tables. 

"It's  different  as  can  be,"  she  announced,  after  a  pro- 
longed survey. 

"Different  from  what?"  Courtney  asked. 

"  From  New  York.  The  women  aren't  as  well  dressed 
as  they  would  be  in  New  York;  but,  some  way  or  other, 
you  feel  as  if  they  didn't  have  to  be,  and  as  if  they  knew 
they  didn't  have  to  be.  I  just  wish  you'd  look  at 
that  purple  brocade,  Miss  Carewe.  Now  if  a  woman 
had  to  go  to  Sherry's  dressed  like  that,  she'd  be 
mortified  to  death  and  squirmy  and  uncomfortable,  and 
everybody  would  be  looking  at  her  and  criticizing  her; 
but  that  purple  brocade  woman  is  perfectly  satisfied 
with  herself  and  everybody  else  is  satisfied  with  her. 
She'd  wrap  a  plush  portiere  around  her  and  drape  a 
lace  curtain  over  it  and  feel  that  she  was  giving  the 
public  a  treat." 

"  That's  the  Duchess  of  P  -  — ,"  volunteered 
Courtney. 


132  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

"Really?  Well,  she  looks  it.  Now,  you  know,  that's 
just  it.  I  don't  believe  one  of  the  Sherry  crowd  could 
get  into  a  dress  like  that  and  fringe  her  hair  and  curl  it 
with  a  slate  pencil  and  look  like  a  Duchess.  Isn't  it 
wonderful  how  anybody  can  ?  I  suppose  you  have  to  be 
born  that  way  —  not  with  the  purple  brocade  and  fringe, 
but  sure  that  whatever  you  do  is  all  right.  At  home  our 
women  are  so  busy  being  dressed  up  that  you  can  see  the 
wheels  go  round,  but  these  English  women  don't  seem 
to  care  much  what  they  wear  so  long  as  it  is  cut  down 
too  low  in  the  neck." 

"But  some  of  them  are  lovely,  and  beautifully  gowned," 
Belinda  objected. 

"Why,  I  think  they're  all  lovely,  especially  the  frumpy 
ones  —  but  it  takes  a  title  and  lots  of  strength  of  character 
to  be  lovely  that  way.  I'd  rather  have  my  clothes  fit 
than  look  like  a  Duchess  —  I  think  I  would.  Maybe 
after  I  get  old  it  would  be  nice  and  comfortable  to  be 
Duchessy.  Mother  has  a  perfectly  dreadful  time  trying 
to  change  her  shape  every  season  so  she  can  wear  the 
new  styles  and  satisfy  her  dressmaker.  Madame  Smith 
says  she  simply  can't  risk  her  reputation  by  making 
clothes  for  a  last  year's  figure. 

"There's  a  beautiful  Englishwoman  —  that  white- 
haired  one  in  gray,  with  the  old  gentleman  and  the  nice- 
looking  young  man.  Why!  They're  bowing  to  us!" 

Amelia  looked  across  the  table  in  amazement  and  saw 


THE  FESTIVE  SIDE  OF  LONDON        133 

Courtney  acknowledging  the  greeting,  his  face  crimson, 
lively  apprehension  in  his  eyes. 

"Oh,  it's  somebody  you  know,  Mr.  Courtney  ?" 

"Yes,  I've  met  them." 

The  young  man  of  the  other  party  rose  and  came  toward 
Courtney's  table,  cordial  welcome  on  his  jolly  face.  The 
American  went  forward  to  meet  him,  with  outstretched 
hand. 

"Why,  Courtney,  old  man!" 

"Well,  Banty.     Glad  to  see  you.': 

"Don't  say  I've  spent  much  time  over  here,"  Courtney 
added  in  low  but  urgent  tones.  Then  he  turned  to  his 
guests  and  introduced  Lord  Bantholme,  who,  slightly  be- 
wildered, but  rallying  nobly,  made  various  polite  remarks 
and  went  back  to  his  elderly  friends. 

"I  knew  I'd  like  Lords." 

Laura  May's  voice  was  eager,  her  black  eyes  sparkling. 

"  He's  perfectly  dear.    Tell  us  about  him,  Mr.  Courtney." 

"Well,  he's  the  Earl  of  Bantholme." 

"  Earl  ?     I  thought  you  said  Lord  ?  " 

"You  can't  call  a  fellow  'Earl'  to  his  face." 

"Oh,  I  see.  I  always  thought  Earls  were  better  than 
just  plain  Lords." 

"Bantholme  came  into  his  title  two  years  ago,  when 
his  father  died.  His  mother  died  when  he  was  a  little 
chap." 

"How  perfectly  lovely!" 


134  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

Seeing  the  shocked  expression  with  which  even  Amelia 
greeted  her  comment,  Laura  May  hastened  to  explain. 

"Not  for  him,  of  course.  It's  awfully  sad  for  him, 
but  I  do  think  orphans  are  splendid.  I  always  thought 
I'd  marry  an  orphan.  Mothers  and  fathers  are  so  snippy 
sometimes.  I  should  think  an  Earl's  father  and  mother 
might  be  awful." 

"He  hasn't  any  belt,"  Amelia  interrupted. 

Courtney  looked  puzzled,  but  Belinda  laughed.  She 
was  used  to  following  the  blind  alleys  of  Amelia's 
reasoning. 

"You  always  hear  about  'belted  earls,'"  the  girl 
insisted.  "I  thought  they  wrore  them." 

"Banty  keeps  his  for  his  tennis  flannels." 

Courtney  was  laughing  now. 

"Well,  I  shouldn't  think  you'd  call  an  earl  'Banty/ 
You  must  know  him  pretty  well." 

"  Oh  yes  —  that  is,  everybody  calls  him  Banty.  He's 
very  easy  to  get  acquainted  with  —  an  awfully  good  sort." 

Then,  in  his  turn,  Courtney  beheld  the  other  members 
of  his  party  recognizing  some  one,  Belinda  with  a  smile, 
Amelia  with  a  blush,  Laura  May  with  frank  amazement. 
He  turned  to  find  out  who  had  excited  the  commotion 
and  saw  Count  de  Brissac,  suave,  handsome,  self-assured, 
making  his  way  across  the  room  with  a  brilliantly  beau- 
tiful woman  of  a  type  distinctly  French. 

Laura  May  was  the  first  to  speak. 


THE  FESTIVE  SIDE  OF  LONDON        135 

"Why,  isn't  it  nice  to  see  him  again!  He  certainly 
is  stunning.  And  isn't  that  a  siren  with  him?  Talk 
about  clothes;  and  just  look  at  that  necklace,  Amelia." 

Amelia  was  looking. 

"She's  pretty  old,"  she  said  critically. 

"But  a  beauty."  Belinda  was  generous  and,  too,  her 
views  on  the  subject  of  age  were  not  those  of  seventeen. 

The  Count  and  his  companion  took  possession  of  a 
table  by  a  window  and  conferred  with  the  waiter.  The 
conference  ended,  Count  de  Brissac  leaned  back  and 
looked  about  him.  As  his  glance  reached  Courtney's 
table,  a  sudden  glow  flashed  into  his  face.  With  a  hasty 
word  to  his  companion  he  left  her  and,  a  moment  later, 
he  was  bowing  over  Belinda's  hand  in  his  impressive 
foreign  way  and  passing  on  the  greeting  to  the  two  girls. 

"But  this  is  most  fortunate,"  he  said,  as  he  shook 
hands  with  Courtney. 

"Picture  to  yourself  that  I  arrive  in  London  only  an 
hour  ago,  I  find  my  cousin,  Madame  de  Lorgeville,  we 
come  here  for  supper,  and  the  first  persons  I  see  are  those 
whom  I  most  wished  to  see.  I  was  not  sure  you  were 
still  in  London.  You  like  it,  this  great  London  ?" 

"We're  crazy  about  it."  Laura  May's  gaze  wandered 
to  the  back  of  Lord  Bantholme's  head.  "I'd  like  to 
stay  right  here.  I  don't  care  much  about  travelling." 

"Yes.  One  amuses  oneself  well  in  London  —  but 
not  as  in  Paris.  Wait  until  you  see  Paris.  You  will 


136  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OP  BELINDA 

allow  that  I  introduce  you  to  that  dear  Paris,  I  hope. 
And  it  is  permitted  that  I  call  on  you  here?  Perhaps 
to-morrow,  at  five  ?  You  will  present  my  regards  to  the 
other  ladies  and  to  the  joyous  Monsieur  Perkins  ? 

"Au  revoir,  then,  Mesdemoiselles.  Au  revoir,  Mon- 
sieur Courtney." 

Courtney  bowed  stiffly.  Belinda  and  the  girls  smiled 
graciously.  From  the  table  by  the  window,  Madame 
de  Lorgeville  had  been  studying  her  cousin's  acquaintances 
and  upon  his  return  to  her  she  obviously  met  him  with  a 
rapid  fire  of  questions  to  which  he  gave  nonchalant  replies. 

"She  seems  awfully  interested  in  us,"  commented 
Laura  May.  "You  can  see  she's  asking  him  all  sorts 
of  things  about  us.  Weren't  you  surprised  to  see  him?" 

Miss  Carewe  and  Amelia  admitted  that  they  were 
surprised;  but  it  occurred  to  Courtney  that  the  surprise, 
save  in  Laura  May's  case,  was  not  of  an  overwhelming 
character.  Also  he  had  noticed  that  the  Count  had  not 
found  it  necessary  to  ask  where  they  were  staying. 

Later  on,  as  Courtney  waited  for  his  carriage,  Lord 
Bantholme  stumbled  upon  him  and  ran  a  detaining  finger 
through  his  buttonhole. 

"I  say,  old  man,  I  don't  know  what  the  game  is,  but 
let  me  in,  that's  a  good  chap.  They're  the  original  Three 
Graces.  They've  got  the  Beautiful  Gunnings  beaten  to 
a  standstill.  Take  me  around.  Do.  The  slim  one 
with  the  black  eyes  has  me  simply  groggy  in  the  knees. 


THE  FESTIVE  SIDE  OF  LONDON        137 

Don't  tell  me  she's  your  loadstar.  Come  now,  Court- 
ney. I'll  swear  you  never  set  foot  on  British  soil  before. 
I'll  tell  them  I  had  to  swim  out  in  order  to  get  acquainted 
with  you." 

Courtney  eyed  him  doubtfully. 

"It's  rather  a  rum  situation,  Banty.  I  don't  know. 
Drop  in  at  the  club  after  one  and  I'll  tell  you  about  it." 

"  And  you'll  enter  me  for  the  black-eye  stakes  ?  " 

"There's  a  chaperon." 

"Where?" 

"The  one  in  pink." 

"  Oh,  my  suffering  Aunt  Jemina !   A  chaperon !   That  ?  " 

"Wait  until  she  disapproves  of  you." 

"She  won't.  They  never  do.  Since  the  poor  old 
Governor  went,  I've  had  to  wear  spikes  to  fend  them  off." 

"This  will  be  very  different." 

"No  it  won't.  I'm  a  dabster  at  chaperons.  See 
you  later." 

He  started  away,  but  turned  back. 

"Saw  you  talking  with  that  De  Brissac  fellow.  The 
chaperon  might  work  off  her  sharp  edge  on  him.  She'd 
better." 

"Know  him?" 

"  Know  about  him.  Blooming  rotter,  my  boy.  Black 
sheep.  Good  family.  He  was  mixed  up  in  that  nasty 
Hauteville  scandal  and  a  lot  of  others.  Great  pal  with 
the  De  Lorgeville  woman.  She  was  with  him  to-night. 


138  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

She  has  handsome  houses  here  and  in  Paris.  Knows  a 
few  good  people  too.  A  bit  off  colour  though.  The  houses 
aren't  healthy  for  gilded  lads  with  fat  bank  accounts. 
Play's  too  high.  You  know  the  sort  of  thing.  Tearing 
beauty,  though,  isn't  she?" 

"He  calls  her  his  cousin." 

Lord  Bantholme  grinned. 

"  He  does  ?  Well,  they  do  say  —  but  I'm  gossiping 
like  an  old  hen.  There's  your  carriage." 

Courtney  was  thoughtful  on  the  way  home.  It  was 
plainly  his  duty  to  warn  Miss  Carewe  against  the  Count, 
but  he  had  a  suspicion,  amounting  to  certainty,  that  she 
would  not  Consider  the  warning  disinterested.  Perhaps, 
after  all,  there  would  be  nothing  more  to  bother  about 
than  the  one  call.  They  would  be  leaving  London  very 
soon.  The  days  were  full  and  he  could  keep  the  evenings 
full.  Banty  would  help  him.  And  before  the  Paris 
situation  would  have  to  be  handled  perhaps  his  belle 
dame  sans  tnerci  would  be  more  willing  to  listen  to  advice 
from  him.  For  the  present,  he  would  let  things  slide. 

As  the  two  girls  made  ready  for  bed  that  night,  Laura 
May  chattered  volubly. 

"I  can  hardly  wait  to  write  home  to  the  girls.  Bess 
will  be  furious.  She  didn't  meet  a  soul  except  Americans 
when  she  was  over  here  last  summer,  and  look  at  us !  Of 
course,  Mr.  Courtney's  American,  but  he's  lovely  and  he 
knows  exactly  how  to  do  things,  and  we've  only  been  in 


THE  FESTIVE  SIDE  OF  LONDON        139 

Europe  four  days  and  counts  and  earls  are  just  cluttering 
up  our  doorstep.  Isn't  it  the  greatest  fun?" 

But  Amelia  braided  her  hair  thoughtfully  and,  for  once, 
was  mute. 

"It's  those  shrimps.  You'd  better  take  a  pepsin  tab- 
let," advised  Laura  May  as  she  climbed  into  bed.  Amelia 
only  sighed. 

Meanwhile  down  at  Brooks,  Lord  Bantholme  was 
listening  to  Courtney  and  punctuating  the  tale  with  out- 
bursts of  hilarity  that  made  the  few  other  smokers  look  at 
him  disapprovingly. 

"Oh,  my  eye!  What  a  silly  ass  you  must  feel,  old 
man,"  he  said  as  the  two  friends  parted  in  the  early  morn- 
ing hours.  "  But  it's  worth  it.  She's  a  queen.  There's 
no  denying  that  —  only  I  like  them  black-eyed  myself." 


CHAPTER  EIGHT 

A  LIVE  EARL  AT  THE  WHEEL 

ON  THE  morning  after  the  Carlton  supper  Courtney,  for 
the  moment  alone  with  the  girls  and  their  chaperon,  pro- 
posed a  plan  for  the  evening. 

"Bantholme  is  eager  to  meet  you  all  again,"  he  said, 
"and  I  thought  if  you  were  willing,  Miss  Carewe,  we 
might  dine  at  Claridge's  and  ask  him  to  join  us.  Then 
we  could  go  on  somewhere  afterward." 

Miss  Carewe  promptly  vetoed  the  plan. 

"I  can't  leave  the  rest  of  the  party  alone  for  dinner." 

"  But  we'll  take  them  with  us." 

"They  won't  go." 

"  Oh,  yes,  they  will,  if  I  promise  to  send  them  home  to 
bed  right  after  dinner." 

Here,  to  every  one's  surprise  and  to  Laura  May's  des- 
pair, Amelia  seconded  the  chaperon's  objections. 

"I  don't  believe  I'd  better  go  again  to-night,  Miss 
Carewe.  I  don't  feel  so  awfully  well." 

"  Not  really  ill  ?  "     Belinda's  tone  was  anxious. 

"Oh  no;  just  a  little  tired." 

"Those  shrimps!"  Laura  May  was  divided  twixt 

140 


A  LIVE  EARL  AT  THE  WHEEL          141 

sympathy  and  exasperation,  but  the  exasperation  was 
soothed  by  Courtney's  next  remark. 

"Well,  would  you  mind  Bantholme's  calling  this  eve- 
ning? He  wants  us  to  go  down  to  Ranelagh  with  him 
to-morrow  afternoon  —  the  whole  party,  Miss  Carewe. 
He  has  two  big  cars  and  I  think  Aunt  Florilla  and  the 
rest  would  enjoy  seeing  Ranelagh. " 

"Splendid!"  Laura  May  bounced  on  her  chair  like 
a  rubber  ball,  but  Amelia's  expression  was  still  doubtful 
and  the  chaperon  became  seriously  alarmed. 

"  You're  sure  you  don't  feel  very  badly,  Amelia  ?  Does 
your  head  ache?" 

"A  little.  I'll  stay  in  and  rest  to-day,  though.  Maybe 
I'll  be  all  right  to-morrow." 

"You'd  like  the  Ranelagh  plan?"  Courtney's  voice 
was  properly  solicitous. 

"Oh,  yes;    it  would  be  lovely,  if  I  feel  well  enough." 

"Well,  you've  got  to." 

Laura  May  was  firm. 

"You  must  simply  starve  yourself  to-day,  and  take 
all  sorts  of  things.  I've  got  the  cunningest  little 
medicine  case  I've  been  dying  to  use.  It  has  twelve 
different  kinds  of  medicine  in  it  —  all  homeopathic 
so  they  can't  hurt  you.  Come  on  upstairs.  I'll  give 
them  to  you." 

"  I'll  do  the  prescribing,  if  you  please." 

Belinda  was  laughing  but  worried. 


142  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

"  Would  you  like  to  have  me  stay  with  you  to- 
day, dear?" 

"Oh,  no,  indeed.  I'm  not  so  sick  as  that.  I  just 
want  to  be  quiet." 

Amelia  wanting  to  be  quiet  was  an  anomaly  distinctly 
alarming,  and  the  chaperon's  look  of  anxiety  deepened. 

"  We  will  have  to  wait  before  deciding  about  to-morrow 
afternoon,  Mr.  Courtney,  but  if  Lord  Bantholme  cares 
to  call  this  evening  — 

"Do  bring  him,"  Laura  May  begged.  Her  black  eyes 
were  eloquent  and  Courtney  answered  them. 

"Short  of  sandbagging  him,  I  couldn't  keep  him 
away." 

So  Amelia  was  left  at  home  upon  a  couch  while  the 
rest  of  the  party  went  forth,  as  Mrs.  Bagby  put  it,  "to 
clean  up  some  odds  and  ends  of  sightseeing." 

"  We're  getting  along  splendid,"  the  old  lady  announced, 
settling  her  spectacles  firmly  and  consulting  her  Baede- 
ker, after  the  party  was  located  on  top  of  a  motor  bus. 

"I  don't  see  but  what  two  or  three  more  days  will  fix 
London  up  first  rate.  We  haven't  done  Windsor  and 
I'm  bent  on  seeing  the  Zoo  and  the  People's  Palace,  and 
Mr.  Perkins  says  he's  got  to  have  a  whole  day  in  the 
British  Museum.  Of  course  there  are  things  we'll  have 
to  skip,  but  my  soul,  this  Baedeker  man  don't  have  any 
idea  about  time.  He'd  keep  you  busy  in  one  place  all 
summer." 


A  LIVE  EARL  AT  THE  WHEEL  143 

"We  only  allowed  a  week  for  London,  you  know," 
Belinda  reminded  her. 

"Yes,  I  know.  That's  only  two  days  more.  We'll 
have  to  do  the  Zoo  and  the  Museum  to-morrow." 

"We  have  an  invitation  to  motor  down  to  Ranelagh 
for  tea  to-morrow." 

"What's  Ranelagh?"  - 

"A  country  club  — only  it  isn't  really  in  the  country." 

"Anything  to  see?" 

"Well,  just  the  place.  Queen  Bess  and  her  court 
used  to  go  out  there  and  the  Kit  Kat  Club,  and  there's 
always  polo  and  the  crowd  is  amusing  —  a  fashionable 
crowd,  you  know." 

"  My  dear,  I  prefer  the  Zoo.  The  feathers  are  just  as 
fine  and  the  creatures  are  most  interesting.  You  and  the 
girls  run  along  to  Ranelagh.  The  Perkinses  can  cavort 
around  among  the  mummies  and  heathen  idols,  and  I'll 
visit  with  the  animals.  I  like  a  live  coyote  better  than 
a  dead  Egyptian  any  day  and  I'm  tired  of  places  where 
people  were  buried  or  beheaded.  I'm  sort  of  hankering 
after  something  cheerful." 

"Well,  Ranelagh's  cheerful." 

"  Not  nigh  so  cheerful  as  a  camel  or  a  pelican.  Maybe 
the  camels  and  pelicans  ain't  exactly  cheerful  themselves, 
but  they  make  me  cheerful.  They're  so  plumb  foolish 
and  silly  they  tickle  me  'most  to  death.  I  know  people 
just  like  them.  That's  one  nice  thing  about  a  zoo.  The 


144  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

animals  all  look  like  people  you've  known  and  that  makes 
you  feel  at  home  right  away.  I  spent  days  up  at  the 
Bronx  Zoo  before  I  came  away  and  it  was  'most  as  good 
as  being  back  in  Thompsonville.  What'll  you  do  to-mor- 
row afternoon,  Mis'  Nicholson?" 

"She's  coming  with  us."  Belinda  was  positive,  but 
the  little  lady  hesitated. 

"You'll  all  be  young,  my  dear." 

"All  the  more  reason  why  we  need  you.  I'll  chaperon 
the  girls  and  you  chaperon  me." 

"You're  so  young  and  pretty  that  you  do  need  it.  I 
think  I'd  like  to  go.  I  love  pretty  clothes  and  the  house 
must  be  very  old,  and  I'd  like  to  see  what  china  they  use. 
I'm  a  little  bit  tired  of  dead  people  myself.  There  seem 
to  be  so  many  of  them  in  London." 

When  the  sightseers  went  back  to  the  boarding  house, 
a  little  before  five,  making  the  day  a  short  one  in  view 
of  Count  de  Brissac's  promised  visit,  they  found  that 
gentleman  already  installed  in  the  drawing  room  and  being 
entertained  by  Amelia  —  a  radiant  Amelia,  all  in  light 
blue  and  showing  no  trace  of  the  morning's  indisposition. 

"In  my  eagerness  I  have  arrived  before  the  hour," 
the  Count  explained  in  smiling  apology. 

"  Fortunately  Miss  Bowers  was  here  to  make  it  possible 
that  I  should  wait  patiently." 

Belinda  looked  Amelia  over  with  anxious  eyes. 

"  You  are  feeling  better,  dear  ?  " 


A  LIVE  EARL  AT  THE  WHEEL  145 

"Perfectly  fine,  Miss  Carewe.  I'll  be  all  right  for 
Ranelagh.  I  knew  all  I  needed  was  a  rest.  My  head 
was  simply  woozy  with  sightseeing." 

"Mine  too,"  groaned  Laura  May.  "I  can't  remember 
a  blessed  thing  any  more.  I  don't  know  whether  Wil- 
liam the  Conqueror's  a  king  or  a  painter  or  the  cook  at  the 
Savoy.  I  feel  like  that  tall  lady  from  Burlington,  Iowa  — 
the  one  that's  travelling  with  a  woman's  club.  It's  a 
History  Club  and  they  thought  it  would  be  lovely  to  have 
the  woman  that  lectures  to  them  —  sort  of  a  club  leader 
you  know  —  bring  them  abroad.  So  they  came  and  now 
they  hate  her.  She's  just  killing  them.  They've  only 
been  here  since  the  tenth  of  June  and  they're  completely 
frazzled  out  already.  Last  night,  the  tall  one  came  up 
to  the  little  fat  one  and  said;  'Susan,  have  we  been  to 
York?'  Susan  didn't  even  try  to  think.  She  just  looked 
tired  and  said,  'I  don't  know.  You've  got  it  all  down  in 
your  book,  haven't  you?'  The  tall  one  said  she  had, 
and  Susan  said  it  was  silly  to  bother  about  it.  They'd 
have  plenty  of  time  to  look  it  up  and  find  out  whether 
they'd  been  there  when  they  got  back  to  Burlington. 
I'm  glad  you  aren't  so  very  instructive,  Miss  Carewe." 

"  I  don't  know  whether  that  is  a  compliment  or  slander." 
laughed  Belinda. 

"Well,  you're  giving  us  a  scrumptious  time  and  if  we 
want  to  be  instructed,  we've  all  got  Baedekers." 

Count  de  Brissac,  cordially  invited  by  every  one  save 


140  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

Courtney,  stayed  for  dinner.  He  spent  the  evening,  too, 
and  placidly  overlooked  the  British  reserve  with  which 
Lord  Bantholme  recognized  an  introduction  to  him. 

That  astute  young  man,  proceeding  according  to  a 
tried  and  proved  system,  heroically  devoted  himself  to 
softening  the  heart  of  the  chaperon  and  succeeded  amaz- 
ingly. No  normal  woman  could  have  disapproved  of 
him.  He  was  so  jolly,  so  wholesome,  so  unaffected,  so 
boyish.  Even  the  elderly  folk  stayed  up  until  after  their 
usual  bed-time  to  laugh  at  him  and  with  him,  and  Mrs. 
Bagby  admitted  that  she  half  regretted  turning  down 
Ranelagh  in  favour  of  the  Zoo. 

"I  wouldn't  pass  you  over  for  anything  less  amusing 
than  a  camel,  son,"  she  said  dryly,  as  she  bade  him 
good  night. 

He  wrung  her  hand  in  effusive  gratitude. 

"We'll  go  by  camel  instead  of  motor,  if  you  say  the 
word,"  he  promised;  but  she  refused  the  tempting  offer. 

"That's  a  corking  old  lady,"  Lord  Bantholme  said 
enthusiastically  as  the  door  closed  behind  her.  "Your 
aunt's  another,  Courtney.  I'm  simply  wax  in  the  hands 
of  nice  old  ladies.  I  adore  them.  I'd  rather  drink  tea 
with  them  than  champagne  with  any  one  else.  They  are 
so  ripe  and  mellow,  and  they  know  such  a  lot  of  things 
without  being  told,  and  a  fellow  isn't  afraid  of  their  not 
understanding.  The  only  reason  I'm  single  at  the 
advanced  age  of  twenty-four  is  that  no  one  over  sixty-five 


A  LIVE  EARL  AT  THE  WHEEL  147 

has  ever  been  willing  to  marry  me.  Heaven  knows  I've 
asked  them  all.  They  always  laugh  at  me,  and  try  to 
marry  me  to  their  granddaughters. 

"If  I  were  a  writing  sharp,  I'd  write  a  book  about 
'Old  Ladies  I  Have  Proposed  To.'  They  range  from 
Dowager  Duchesses  to  cooks.  There's  an  old  cook  at  my 
cousin's  in  Edinburgh  for  whom  I'd  shed  my  heart's 
blood,  but  she's  always  urging  me  to  go  and  marry 
some  wee  bit  lassie.  It's  not  that  she  canna'  thole 
me,  but  she  compares  me  with  Prince  Charlie  and  I 
don't  size  up  well." 

"  Poor  lad ! "  Belinda  looked  volumes  of  sympathy. 

"Now  you  know  you're  not  old  enough  to  take  that 
tone  with  me,  Miss  Carewe  —  but  I  fancy  you'll  make 
a  rippin'  old  lady.  You  haven't  made  any  sort  of  a 
start  at  all  in  years,  but  you're  going  strong  on  the  charm. 
I  may  lower  the  age  limit  by  some  forty  odd  years." 

He  was  too  blithely  audacious  to  be  snubbed  and 
Belinda's  heart  warmed  to  him.  If  this  eligible  young 
Britisher  should  take  a  fancy  to  one  of  the  girls 

The  thought  came  back  to  her  later  as  she  watched 
him  talking  to  Laura  May,  and  she  mentally  reviewed 
the  whole  duty  of  a  chaperon.  The  Lees  would  be 
delighted  —  but  Laura  May  had  little  money  for  the  gild- 
ing of  titles.  Now,  if  he  would  only  fall  in  love  with 
Amelia.  Her  eyes  turned  to  Amelia  and  Courtney.  No 
such  luck !  Amelia  with  her  pretty  face  and  sentimental 


148  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

heart  and  empty  head  and  great  fortune  was  sure  to  make 
a  mess  of  things,  to  be  snapped  up  by  a  cold-blooded 
fortune  hunter. 

Belinda  turned  with  a  little  sigh  to  the  Count,  who  sat 
beside  her. 

"En fin?"  he  queried. 

"  Money  has  its  disadvantages,"  she  said,  offering  him 
her  thought,  without  the  context. 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"One  makes  shift  to  endure  its  possession  with  much 
philosophy.  I  must  be  going,  Miss  Carewe.  You  leave 
London  in  two  days  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  And  you  come  back  here  ?  " 

"In  two  weeks;  but  only  for  a  day.  Then  we  will 
go  to  Holland." 

"  And  if  one  should  cross  your  path  during  your  travels  ?" 

She  hesitated.  There  was  humble  entreaty  in  his 
voice  and  his  eyes  were  saying  more  than  his  words.  The 
girls  with  their  admirers  made  her  feel  old  and  she  hated 
to  feel  old.  She  was  only  twenty-five  after  all. 

"One  is  always  glad  to  meet  friends,"  she  said  softly. 

"  And  you  have  no  time  for  me  before  you  go  ?  " 

"  I'm  afraid  not.  My  time  is  not  my  own,  you  know  — 
and  there  are  evening  engagements." 

"  But  I  shall  see  you  again.  Perhaps  I,  too,  will  drink 
my  tea  at  Ranelagh,  to-morrow.  Good  night." 


A  LIVE  EARL  AT  THE  WHEEL  149 

He  went  to  take  his  leave  of  the  others  and  left  her 
wondering  why,  saying  so  little,  he  always  seemed  to  have 
said  so  much. 

London  weather  was  in  holiday  mood  for  the  Rane- 
lagh  expedition  and  Lord  Bantholme  was  in  tune  with 
the  weather. 

A  more  beamish  boy  than  the  one  who  brought  a  big 
touring  car  to  a  standstill  before  Mrs.  Forbes- Wattles 's 
door  at  three  o'clock  and  ran  lightly  up  the  steps,  it  would 
have  been  hard  to  imagine,  and  the  spirits  of  the  waiting 
group,  already  high,  soared  at  the  very  sight  of  him. 

"Hail  to  thee,  blithe  spirit!"  Belinda  chanted  gaily. 
"I  want  it  understood  here  and  now  that  I  haven't  an 
ounce  of  responsibility  on  my  shoulders.  Mrs.  Nichol- 
son is  chaperoning  this  crowd  and  the  aforementioned 
blithe  spirit  is  conducting  it.  Personally  I've  embarked 
on  a  career  of  utter  foolishness.  I've  weeks  of  sobriety 
to  atone  for." 

"  That  being  the  case,  you'll  sit  on  the  front  seat  beside 
me  so  that  I  can  keep  a  fatherly  eye  on  you.  I  only 
brought  the  one  big  car,  Courtney.  There's  room  for 
all  of  us  and  it's  jollier  being  together.  My  man  will 
follow  with  the  roadster.  You  can  spill  him  out  and  take 
it  any  time  if  you  choose  to." 

He  tucked  Mrs.  Nicholson,  Belinda  and  Amelia 
into  their  places  and  went  back  to  wait  for  Laura 
May  who,  at  the  last  minute,  had  gone  upstairs  for  a 


150  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

handkerchief.  When  she  came,  he  lingered  for  an  instant 
in  the  shadowy  hall. 

"It's  all  on  your  account  you  know  —  this  tea  party," 
he  said.  "Rough  on  me  that  I  can't  have  you  on  the 
front  seat,  but  I  want  Miss  Carewe  to  like  me.  She's  a 
brick  and  then  she  does  the  chaperoning  stunts  herself 
as  a  rule.  If  I  could  pursuade  her  that  she  wouldn't 
mind  my  joining  you  somewhere  up  north,  while  you 
are  there,  would  you  hate  it  ?  " 

The  girl  did  not  answer,  but  in  some  occult  way  he 
gathered  that  she  would  not  hate  it,  and  he  followed  her 
down  the  steps  looking  fatuously  contented  with  life. 

The  car  hiccoughed,  sneezed,  groaned,  palpitated,  and 
sped  away  through  the  sunlit  streets,  leaving  a  trail  of 
gasoline  and  laughter  behind  it.  Even  Mrs.  Nicholson, 
after  a  few  nervous  moments,  gave  herself  up  to  the  exhila- 
ration of  the  swift  movement  and  the  infectious  gaiety 
of  the  daring  driver. 

"If  I  only  didn't  feel  I  had  to  scrooge  my  feet  up  to 
help  us  get  by  things,  I'd  like  it  very  much  indeed,"  she 
confessed.  "And  if  I  could  only  remember  that  all  the 
other  people  know  that  we'll  turn  to  the  left.  It  seems 
so  wonderfully  intelligent  of  them  to  dodge  us.  Is  that 
Hyde  Park?  Why  don't  we  go  through?" 

"Too  late,"  Lord  Bantholme  said,  looking  back  over 
his  shoulder  while  his  machine  chased  an  organ  grinder 
up  on  the  curb. 


A  LIVE  EARL  AT  THE  WHEEL  151 

"The  Queen  doesn't  fancy  meeting  cars  when  she 
wants  to  drive,  so  we're  barred  during  driving  hours." 

"  Why  the  silly  old  thing ! "  Amelia  exclaimed  irrever- 
ently. "I  thought  I'd  like  her.  She  looks  so  sensible 
and  sweet  in  her  pictures,  but  you  never  can  tell  from 
pictures.  I'd  just  as  soon  go  round  the  park,  anyway. 
Who  cares!" 

Nobody  cared.  It  would  have  taken  more  than  royal 
caprice  to  mar  the  content  of  that  party,  escaped  from 
the  thraldom  of  Baedeker,  raised  above  the  sordidness 
of  trams  and  busses,  spinning  down  to  Ranelagh  in 
a  luxurious  six-cylinder  car,  with  a  live  earl  at  the 
wheel. 

"  There's  Kensington  Gardens,  isn't  it  ?  "  asked  Belinda 
as  she  caught  a  gleam  of  winding  water.  "  I  went  over 
there  late  one  afternoon.  It  was  dreadfully  disappointing 
—  no  Peter  Pan,  no  children,  just  'Arrys  and  'Arriets  and 
chronic  park  loafers.  That's  the  worst  of  a  man  like 
Barrie.  He  is  always  giving  nature  impossibly  adorable 
things  to  live  up  to." 

"Nature's  doing  very  well,  thank  you,"  Lord  Ban- 
tholme  protested.  "Look  at  the  old  lady!  Isn't  she 
laying  herself  out  for  us  to-day  ?  And  yet  there  are  ridi- 
culous persons  —  mostly  Americans  —  who  have  a  theory 
that  England  is  a  fogbound  isle  and  that  we  don't 
know  what  sunshine  is.  I  rely  on  you  to  uproot  that 
folly  when  you  go  home,  Miss  Carewe.  How's  this  for 


152  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

June  sunshine  ?  Solid  chunks  of  it !  Talk  about  your 
blue  Italian  skies!  We've  got  them  looking  like  a  gray 
flannel  shirt." 

"  But  you  do  have  fogs ! " 

"  We  do.  God  bless  'em.  I  got  caught  in  one  with  a 
girl  last  winter.  We  lost  her  mother  at  the  first  jump  and 
couldn't  find  our  way  home  from  church.  I  considered 
it  a  reward  of  virtue  —  for  going  to  church,  you  know. 
It  almost  gave  me  the  church  habit.  We  wandered 
around  everywhere.  Didn't  get  home  until  four  in  the 
afternoon  and  then  had  to  have  a  bobby  round  us  up  and 
show  us  the  way." 

"How  distressing!"  Mrs.  Nicholson  was  much  in 
earnest  but  the  Englishman  grinned  joyously. 

"Well  —  if  that's  what  you  call  distressing,"  he  said. 

The  heart  of  the  city  had  been  left  behind.  The  car 
flashed  along  dreary,  shop-lined  suburban  streets,  past 
smug  vine-covered  villas  with  grille  gates  and  shell-bor- 
dered paths,  out  into  a  region  of  ampler  spaces  and  more 
pretentious  dwellings,  hidden  away  behind  high  brick 
walls.  Finally  it  made  a  dive  through  an  open  gateway, 
ran  along  a  private  drive  and  came  to  a  full  stop  before 
a  dignified  old  house  where  an  imposing  personage  in 
livery  responded  solemnly  to  Lord  Bantholme's  jovial 
greeting.  The  British  peerage  might  forget  itself  but 
he  'oped  'e  never  did.  Scores  of  motor  cars  were 
puffing  and  panting  near  at  hand,  horses  were  pawing 


A  LIVE  EARL  AT  THE  WHEEL  153 

up  the  gravel,  a  flutter  of  gay  frocks  was  disappearing 
through  the  wide  doorway.  Amelia  and  Laura  May 
fairly  groaned  with  rapture  as  they  waited  for  the  Earl 
to  join  them. 

"I  do  so  love  the  beginnings  of  things,"  Amelia  remarked 
soulfully.  "It's  like  the  orchestra ' tuning  up'  at  the  opera 
or  theatre.  That  always  makes  me  feel  excited  and  then 
the  curtain  goes  up,  and  —  oh,  what  a  duck  of  a  house, 
when  you  get  inside!" 

But  they  did  not  stay  to  examine  the  rambling  rooms 
with  their  quaint  old-world  flavour;  for  beyond  a  second 
wide  doorway  an  outdoor  world  was  beckoning  them, 
an  alluring  world  of  far-reaching,  velvety  turf,  across 
whose  vivid  green  surface  long  shadows  pointed  east- 
ward, a  world  of  wide-spreading,  great-bodied  trees,  of 
sweet-scented  flowering  shrubs,  of  winding  shadowy 
paths  and  silver-threading  streams. 

In  the  distance  splashes  of  swift-moving  colour  marked 
the  polo  field,  everywhere,  women  in  light  frocks  were 
strolling,  their  silks  and  muslins  glowing  in  the  sunlight, 
melting  into  the  shadows. 

Near  the  house,  tea  tables  were  spread  on  the  closely 
clipped  terraces  and  already  many  of  them  were  occupied. 
Laura  May  bent  an  inquiring  eye  upon  the  tea  drinkers 
nearest  her  and  sank  weakly  into  a  chair. 

"I  simply  can't  bear  it.  It's  all  too  good  to  be  true  — 
and  there's  plum  cake  and  strawberry  jam!" 


154  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

"And  toasted  muffins!"  added  Amelia,  in  the  accents 
of  one  who  sees  a  great  light  in  darkness. 

"Let's  sit  right  here.  I'm  afraid  to  try  to  walk  for 
fear  I'll  wake  up." 

"It's  early  for  tea,"  objected  Belinda. 

"  It's  never  early  for  tea." 

"I  thought  perhaps  we'd  have  tea  rather  early,  and 
then  we  could  go  for  a  whirl  out  Richmond  way  and 
dine  at  the  Star  and  Garter." 

Amelia  turned  her  blue  eyes  toward  Lord  Bantholme 
and  contemplated  him  softly  for  a  moment. 

"Isn't  he  young  to  have  such  wonderful  thoughts?" 
she  asked  of  the  group  at  large  in  hushed  tones. 

They  consumed  scandalous  quantities  of  tea.  Plum 
cake  and  muffins  and  jam  melted  away  before  them. 
Even  the  imperturbable  waiter  changed  into  something 
approaching  human  friendliness  under  the  influence  of 
their  appreciation  and  their  cheerful  idiocy. 

And  Belinda  was  the  idiot  in  chief,  the  most  delectably 
and  frivolously  absurd  of  the  group.  Courtney  had 
never  seen  her  like  this  and  he  hugged  the  revelation 
to  his  heart.  She  was  nearer,  less  alarming,  more 
approachable.  And  she  was  friendly  —  at  peace  with 
all  the  world. 

He  had  never  liked  Ranelagh.  It  occurred  to  him 
that  he  had  often  called  it  the  dullest  spot  in  London, 
and  now  he  wondered  vaguely  at  his  former  blindness. 


A  LIVE  EARL  AT  THE  WHEEL  155 

Ranelagh,  it  seemed,  was  a  place  enchanted,  joy-soaked, 
bliss  evoking. 

Even  the  advent  of  Count  de  Brissac,  strolling  across 
from  the  tennis  courts  with  friends  whom  he  promptly 
deserted  to  join  Lord  Bantholme's  party,  could  not  dis- 
turb the  general  serenity.  Bantholme's  face,  for  an 
instant,  clouded,  but  the  next  moment  relapsed  into  sunny 
content  and  when  the  time  for  departure  came,  he  even 
expressed  polite  regret  that  the  capacity  of  his  machine 
would  not  permit  him  to  offer  the  Count  a  seat. 

"But  there's  the  roadster,"  Laura  May  suggested. 
"Mr.  Courtney  could  take  somebody  in  that." 

There  was  an  almost  imperceptible  hesitation,  then  the 
Earl  plunged  valiantly  into  the  breach. 

"Why,  yes.  You  wouldn't  mind  driving,  Courtney. 
That  would  give  us  extra  places  in  the  big  car.  Count 
de  Brissac,  we  are  dining  at  the  Star  and  Garter.  If  you 
have  no  other  engagement " 

"Delighted." 

As  they  waited  for  the  cars,  Belinda  grappled  with  the 
situation.  Lord  Bantholme  would  like  to  have  Laura 
May  in  his  car.  That  was  obvious  enough.  The 
roadster  would  not  be  comfortable  for  Mrs.  Nicholson  — 
and  Amelia  must  not  be  allowed  to  go  alone  with  Court- 
ney. The  child  shouldn't  be  married  out  of  hand  for 
her  money  if  vigilant  chaperoning  could  prevent. 

And  the  result  of  all  this  reflection  was  that  the  big 


156  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

car  dashed  off  with  Laura  May  beside  the  Earl  in  the 
front  seat  and  Mrs.  Nicholson,  Amelia  and  the  Count 
occupying  the  tonneau,  while  Jack  Courtney,  to  his  sur- 
prise and  joy,  found  Belinda  beside  him  in  the  roadster 
with  the  chauffeur  on  the  rumble  behind. 

He  was  quiet  as  he  followed  the  flying  car  through  the 
sunset  lights  and  shadows  and  the  girl  beside  him  misread 
his  silence. 

So  he  was  sulky  because  he  could  not  have  Amelia, 
because  he  had  to  put  up  with  her.  A  complimentary 
young  man,  this!  It  would  serve  him  right  if  she 
should  — 

A  wicked  twinkle  crept  into  her  eyes.  Her  lips  curled 
into  a  smile.  She  looked  sidewise  at  the  man's  clear-cut 
profile. 

It  would  serve  him  quite  right  —  and  it  wouldn't  be 
unfair  to  Amelia.  The  girl  hadn't  really  learned  to  care 
about  him  yet  and  he  wasn't  in  love  with  her.  He  didn't 
care  about  anything  except  money.  If  one  should  make 
him  care. — It  might  be  a  salutary  lesson,  and  it  would 
be  one  way  of  keeping  Amelia  out  of  trouble.  To  be 
sulky  because  he  had  to  motor  alone  with  her!  There 
were  men  of  excellent  judgment  who  quite  liked  it.  They 
had  told  her  so. 

Her  smile  trembled  into  a  laugh  —  a  low,  mocking 
little  laugh,  which  made  Courtney  turn  to  meet  her  eyes. 
They  were  laughing  too. 


A  LIVE  EARL  AT  THE  WHEEL  157 

"Alone  with  the  chaperon.  A  tragedy  in  one  act!" 
she  said  lightly. 

He  coloured. 

"Call  it  comedy,  Miss  Carewe.  Tragedies  end 
unhappily." 

"But  one-act  tragedies  end  quickly.  That  is  in  their 
favour." 

"What  guarantee  have  you  that  the  play  has  only 
one  act?" 

"We  dine  at  eight." 

"  The  scene  shifts.     That  is  all." 

Really  the  man  was  quite  willing  to  play  the  game. 
It  would  be  interesting  to  see  him  in  earnest,  when  he 
could  look  at  one  like  that,  in  jest.  Poor  susceptible 
Amelia !  The  chances  were  against  her  —  unless  — 

"You'll  let  me  drive  you  home  to-night,  Miss  Carewe  ?" 

Evidently  he  was  resigned  to  the  worst. 

"I  should  enjoy  it."  She  was  very  gentle  and  when 
Belinda  was  gentle  she  was  exceedingly  upsetting.  "If 
you  are  sure  it  wouldn't  be  a  bore  for  you?"  Humility 
was  even  more  upsetting  than  gentleness. 

"A  bore!"  It  was  an  eruption,  but  he  remembered 
the  chauffeur  and  checked  the  threatened  lava  flow. 

"It   would   make   me  very   happy,"   he   said    quietly. 

Of  course  he  couldn't  mean  it,  but  he  had  a  way  of  saying 
things  as  though  he  meant  them.  If  he  should  ever  be 
in  earnest,  he  might  make  love  to  some  one  very  nicely 


158  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

indeed.  Most  men  bungled  it  so.  They  hadn't  the  eyes 
nor  the  mouth  nor  the  voice  for  it. 

"You  will  come?" 

She  was  merely  doing  her  duty  by  Amelia.  That  was 
understood;  but  the  path  of  duty,  so  it  seemed,  was  not 
invariably  thorny.  Occasionally  one  could  get  a  beauti- 
ful slide  on  it. 

"If  you  are  sure  you  care  to  have  me." 

"  Oh,  I  care." 

They  slipped  into  a  forest  gloom  and  ran  through  soft 
green  dusks  toward  an  opal  west.  As  they  came  out 
into  the  open  again,  Courtney  looked  down  at  his  compan- 
ion. His  face  was  grave,  slightly  puzzled,  full  of  question, 
but  he  said  nothing. 

Violet  shadows  were  gathering  in  the  hollows  of  the 
downs,  faint  lights  began  to  twinkle  wanly,  here  and  there 
in  the  distance;  but  the  day  lingered,  scattering  pale 
shreds  of  rose  and  blue  and  gold  among  the  invading 
purples  and  grays.  In  the  hush  that  had  fallen,  the 
throb  of  the  motor  seemed  loud,  insistent,  and  Court- 
ney's voice,  when  he  broke  his  silence,  startled  the 
girl  beside  him. 

"Oh,  Lord,  yes,  I  care,"  he  said  grimly.  His  eyes 
were  on  the  road  ahead,  his  hand  gripped  the  steering 
wheel  tightly,  his  jaw  was  stubbornly  set. 

He  lapsed  into  silence  again  and  Belinda  fumbled 
about  in  her  brain  for  small  talk,  but  the  witchery  of  the 


A  LIVE  EARL  AT  THE  WHEEL  159 

hour  sealed  her  lips  and  set  her  heart  and  her  fancy  play- 
ing strange  tricks. 

She  turned  and  looked  at  the  automaton  on  the  rumble. 
He  was  reassuringly  commonplace,  a  flesh  and  blood 
tribute  to  prosaic  everyday  British  conventions.  One 
didn't  fall  in  love  with  a  man  one  hated,  under  the  eyes 
of  a  person  like  Sykes.  She  was  grateful  to  him. 

The  dinner  at  the  Star  and  Garter  was  a  success  from 
every  point  of  view.  Hilarity  reigned  and  Belinda  was 
responsible  for  a  large  percentage  of  the  hilarity.  She 
was  irrepressibly  gay,  irresistibly  funny.  Incidentally 
she  was  pretty,  bewitchingly  pretty.  Even  Lord  Ban- 
tholme  had  moments  when  he  wavered  twixt  black  eyes 
and  brown. 

"Why  do  you  twinkle,  twinkle  so,  Miss  Carewe?" 
he  asked  in  mock  dismay.  "I'm  afraid  of  you.  You're 
elfish.  I  suspect  you  of  traffic  with  the  little  people.  I 
wouldn't  dare  try  to  motor  you  across  running  water." 

"A  star  danced  in  Heaven  and  under  that  star  I  was 
born,"  Belinda  quoted,  "but  I  bow  to  my  natal  star  only 
when  I'm  off  duty.  To-morrow  I'll  do  violence  to  my 
birthright  and  walk  soberly  again." 

Her  mood  lasted  even  when  the  dinner  had  ended  and 
she  and  Courtney  were  speeding  homeward  through  the 
summer  night.  No  more  eloquent  silences.  She  was 
painstakingly  conversational,  clever,  witty,  but  for  per- 
sonalities, serious  talk,  she  left  no  loophole,  and  when 


160  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OP  BELINDA 

Courtney  stopped  the  roadster  before  the  boarding-house 
door,  his  face  wore  a  look  of  disappointment  altogether 
incompatible  with  the  quality  of  the  entertainment  he 
had  received. 

"What's  the  matter  with  Mr.  Courtney?"  Laura 
May  asked  as  she  watched  him  saying  good  night  to 
Lord  Bantholme  and  the  Count.  "He  looks  as  cross  as 
two  sticks." 

"He's  an  unappreciative  soul,  my  dear,"  Miss  Carewe 
said  sadly.  "I'm  afraid  a  first  quality  salon  conversation 
is  completely  wasted  on  him." 


CHAPTER  NINE 

JACOBITES   ALL 

LORD  BANTHOLME  and  Laura  May  had  evolved  the  idea 
that  Miss  Carewe's  party  should  motor  down  to  Windsor 
on  the  last  day  of  their  London  week.  The  Earl  brought 
the  invitation  in  person  immediately  after  breakfast  and 
delivered  it  to  Miss  Carewe  and  Mr.  Perkins,  whom  he 
found  in  the  drawing  room. 

"It's  a  rippin'  morning,"  he  added.  "The  cars  will 
be  around  at  ten." 

But  he  had  reckoned  without  Mr.  Perkins.  That 
gentleman  stoutly  refused  to  set  foot  in  a  motor  car.  He 
never  had  done  it  and  he  never  would.  Moreover,  he 
waxed  wroth  over  being  urged  to  do  it  and  sputtered 
with  emotion  in  his  effort  to  express  the  uncomplimentary 
things  he  thought  about  motor  cars. 

They  should  be  suppressed  by  law.  They  had  robbed 
the  people  of  their  highways,  they  were  a  stench  in  the 
nostrils,  a  menace  to  public  safety,  the  curse  of  civilization. 
In  a  word,  he  talked  as  opinionated  men  do  talk  before  they 
have  acquired  the  motor  habit.  He  had  eaten  fried  sole  for 
breakfast,  and  fish  for  breakfast  never  agreed  with  him. 

161 


162  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

If  Mrs.  Bagby  had  been  there  to  deal  with  him,  the 
issue  might  have  been  different.  She  had  a  way  of  bring- 
ing him  down  to  common  sense  with  a  thud  that  jarred 
him  into  speechless  docility.  But  Mrs.  Bagby  had  gone 
out  to  buy  picture  postals  and  Belinda  quailed  before  the 
storm.  Lord  Bantholme,  murmuring  incoherent  apologies, 
fled  to  the  front  hall.  Here  he  was  joined  a  moment 
later  by  Belinda  who  had  stayed  to  assure  the  irate 
Mr.  Perkins  that  he  should  make  the  Windsor  trip 
by  railway. 

The  noble  Earl  was  mopping  his  brow  and  given  over 
to  noiseless  mirth. 

"Well,  isn't  he  the  human  bromo  seltzer?"  he  mur- 
mured, with  an  apprehensive  glance  toward  the  drawing 
room  doors.  "Does  he  go  off  like  that,  often,  Miss 
Carewe?  Keep  him  dry  and  in  a  dark  place  or  you'll 
never  get  him  back  home.  He'll  just  fizz  himself  away. 
My  word,  but  didn't  he  effervesce  all  over  the  place!" 

Belinda  sat  down  on  the  stair  steps  and  struggled  with 
her  risible  muscles. 

"I  mustn't  laugh.  He'll  be  furious,"  she  gasped,  wip- 
ing her  eyes  —  "but  I've  never  seen  him  do  it  before. 
Wasn't  he  lovely?  I'm  sorry,  though.  The  plan  was 
beautiful." 

Lord  Bantholme  sobered  down  suddenly. 

"Wasn't  it?  I'm  horribly  disappointed.  But,  I  say, 
Miss  Carewe,  you'll  let  me  go  along  with  you,  anyway? 


JACOBITES  ALL  163 

Oh,  I  mean  on  the  train.  I  wouldn't  dare  take  a  car 
near  him.  But  it's  your  last  day  here  and  —  oh  well, 
Miss  Carewe,  you  can  see  how  things  are  with  me, 
can't  you?" 

He  sat  down  beside  her  on  the  step,  looking  boyish 
and  embarrassed,  but  facing  his  hurdle  manfully. 

"Of  course  you're  her  chaperon,  and  you're  the  only 
one  I  can  speak  to.  I  can't  get  at  her  father,  you  know, 
and  I  want  to  do  the  decent  thing.  I  don't  know  what 
she'd  say  herself.  She  doesn't  know  much  about  me, 
but  I  rather  think  —  well,  I'd  chance  it  with  her,  only 
I  don't  want  to  go  at  the  thing  wrong  end  foremost  just 
because  she's  off  here  away  from  her  people.  How  do 
you  think  her  father  would  feel  about  it  ?  " 

Belinda  had  very  definite  ideas  about  Father's  attitude 
but  refused  to  commit  herself. 

"You  see,  your  newspapers  have  printed  such  a  lot  of 
rot  about  foreign  men  with  titles.  You'd  think  we  were 
all  blacklegs.  Some  of  us  are,  but  I'm  a  very  decent 
sort.  Honestly  I  am,  Miss  Carewe.  That's  not  saying 
I'm  collecting  halos,  you  know.  I'm  not  keen  on  halos, 
but  I've  always  had  a  sort  of  feeling  about  the  name  and 
all  that.  The  governor  went  it  strong  on  the  noblesse 
oblige  business.  He  was  the  real  thing.  I  haven't 
lived  up  to  him,  but  the  Bantholmes  have  usually  gone 
pretty  straight.  Sort  of  a  scratch  lot  on  brains  but  not  shy 
on  morals,  you  know.  You  can  get  somebody  to  look 


164  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

me  up.  Anybody  —  I  don't  care.  I  haven't  accumu- 
lated any  haunted  past  to  speak  of  and  my  debts  don't 
keep  me  awake  nights." 

"I  wonder  whether  you  understand  that  Laura  May 
will  not  have  any  money  —  not  a  cent,"  said  Belinda 
slowly. 

Bantholme  groaned. 

"There  you  go.  I  suppose  it  was  the  mention  of  my 
debts.  I  don't  owe  anything  except  to  my  tailor  and  I'll 
pay  him  some  day  when  I  think  his  constitution's  strong 
enough  to  stand  the  shock.  No;  it  doesn't  sound  like 
the  English  lord  in  the  books.  I  know  it,  but  we  aren't 
all  pawning  our  lead  pipe  yet.  Some  of  us  are  getting 
along  very  comfortably  on  our  own,  thank  you,  without 
assistance  from  American  heiresses. 

"Now  look  here,  Miss  Carewe.  It  isn't  fair  to  pick 
out  the  conspicuous  failures  and  fill  the  whole  peerage 
with  them.  What  if  some  of  our  worst  have  gone  over 
and  sold  their  titles  in  your  market  and  then  run  amuck 
just  as  they  always  had  before.  Your  women  bought 
what  they  had  to  sell,  didn't  they?  I  don't  know  but 
what  one  side  of  the  bargain  is  as  savoury  as  the  other. 
The  men's  records  weren't  private  property.  And  from 
what  I  can  read  of  your  divorce  courts  the  European 
nobility  hasn't  any  corner  on  damaged  morals  and  con- 
jugal infelicity." 

"Don't  shoot!"  implored  Belinda. 


JACOBITES  ALL  165 

He  came  to  a  full  stop  and  looked  shamefaced. 

"I  beg  your  pardon.  I  didn't  mean  to  howl  and  beat 
the  air;  but  I  don't  want  a  wife  with  money.  If  she  had 
any  I'd  take  it  out  and  lose  it.  I  know  a  fellow  that 
married  a  rich  Manchester  girl.  He  fell  in  love  with  her, 
you  know,  but  it  seemed  lucky  she  had  money  because 
his  daddy  and  grandaddy  had  gone  through  things  pretty 
thoroughly.  Then  she  went  to  work  and  repaired  the 
Abbey.  It  took  a  thousand  pounds  to  put  on  a  tile 
roof  and  every  time  it  rains  she  talks  about  being  respon- 
sible for  their  having  a  roof  over  their  heads,  until  he  goes 
out  and  sits  in  the  rain. 

"I've  got  money  enough  to  do  us  very  well,  and  two 
or  three  good  places  that  aren't  plastered  up  with  mort- 
gages, and  I'm  wanting  Miss  Lee  to  marry  me,  not  buy 
me.  Do  you  think  she  will  ?  " 

"You  must  write  to  her  father  before  you  ask  her." 

"Before  I  say  a  word  ?" 

"Before  you  say  the  word.     I'll  rely  on  you  to  wait." 

"May  I  join  you  somewhere  next  month ?" 

"Will  you  promise  not  to  propose  to  Laura  May?" 

"Ton  honour." 

Belinda  held  out  her  hand. 

"You're  a  dear  boy,  if  you  do  take  the  British  peer- 
age seriously.  I'll  write  to  Mr.  Lee,  myself." 

With  the  leaving  of  London,  Belinda's  troubles  loomed 
large  once  more.  The  week  in  the  city  had  been  full  of 


166  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

sightseeing  but  the  whirling  days  revolved  around  a  central 
axis.  Mrs.  Forbes-Wattles  supplied  a  point  of  depart- 
ure and  return.  Now  came  a  continuous  performance 
of  train  catching,  cropping  promiscuous  herbage,  sleeping 
in  strange  beds,  dovetailing  sights. 

Cambridge  was  beautiful.  Every  one  agreed  about 
that;  but  the  girls  found  it  melancholy. 

"It  makes  me  sad,  Miss  Carewe.  It  really  does," 
Amelia  insisted.  "It  makes  me  think  of  all  sorts  of  poems 
about  deserted  banquet  halls  and  nevermore  and  lost 
opportunity  and  such  things.  The  place  is  just  lovely 
and  boating  on  the  Backs  is  a  perfect  dream,  but  it's  all 
kind  of  like  Hamlet  with  Hamlet  left  out.  I  could  sit 
down  anywhere  and  cry  because  there  aren't  university 
men  swarming  all  over  the  place.  Think  of  a  Prom 
here,  Laura  May." 

"Yale  Proms  are  good  enough  for  me,"  Laura  May 
declared  loyally. 

"But  Yale  isn't  picturesque  and  romantic  like    this." 

"She  hasn't  got  so  much  ivy  and  green  mould  but  I'll 
bet  she's  got  a  better  football  team." 

Evidently  association  with  the  British  nobility  had  not 
yet  undermined  Laura  May's  patriotism. 

Lincoln  and  York  and  Durham  followed  Cambridge 
in  rapid  succession. 

^  "Talk  about  leaping  from  crag  to  crag!"  Amelia 
remarked  confidentially  to  Courtney  as  they  sat  on  the 


JACOBITES  ALL  167 

steps  of  Durham  Cathedral  waiting  for  the  rest  of  the 
crowd  to  come  up  out  of  the  crypt.  "This  leaping  from 
cathedral  to  cathedral  would  kill  a  chamois.  Isn't  it 
funny  how  excited  Mr.  Perkins  can  get  over  saw-tooth 
marks  on  a  column  in  a  coal  hole;  and  when  Mrs.  Nichol- 
son came  around  the  corner  suddenly  and  saw  Lincoln 
Cathedral  she  cried.  She  really  did.  She  said  it  was 
so  big  and  glorious  and  she'd  never  seen  a  cathedral 
before  and  it  just  all  came  over  her  how  that  wonderful 
thing  had  stood  there  for  centuries  praising  God.  She 
was  perfectly  sweet  about  it  but  I  guess  there's  some- 
thing the  matter  with  me.  Now  honestly,  Mr.  Courtney, 
just  between  friends,  do  you  know  whether  Durham's 
early  English  or  Norman  or  Gothic  or  Brooklyn?" 

Courtney  confessed  shamelessly  that  he  didn't. 

"Well,  do  you  care?" 

He  didn't. 

"That's  a  comfort.  Even  Laura  May's  getting  so 
she  talks  about  clerestories  and  transition  periods  and 
apses  as  if  she'd  invented  them.  I  reckon  she  thinks 
she's  likely  to  come  over  here  and  live  among  them  so 
she  may  as  well  get  used  to  them.  It's  funny  but  I  always 
had  an  idea  that  an  apse  was  some  sort  of  a  bug  that 
Cleopatra  killed  herself  with.  Miss  Carewe  says  that 
was  an  asp.  I  never  could  spell.  If  I  didn't  have  such 
a  splendid  time  not  being  clever  I'd  be  awfully  discouraged 
about  myself,  Mr.  Courtney." 


168  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

She  looked  uncommonly  young  and  bonny  against  the 
grim  gray  stone  of  the  cathedral  wall  and  a  half-pathetic 
droop  in  the  corners  of  her  mouth  made  her  pink  and 
white  prettiness  even  more  inconsequently  babyish  than 
usual.  Courtney  reflected  guiltily  that  if  he  hadn't  been 
fathoms  deep  in  love  with  somebody  quite  different,  he 
would  certainly  have  kissed  her  and  told  her  not  to  cry. 
She  was  the  type  of  girl  to  whom  brilliant  elderly  statesmen 
and  hard-headed  railway  presidents  talk  baby  talk  with- 
out realizing  that  they  are  lapsing  from  their  native 
methods  of  speech,  and  when  she  looked  dejected  as  she 
did  now,  the  normal  man  felt  uneasily  that  something 
ought  to  be  done  about  it. 

"Half  the  people  who  rave  over  cathedrals  don't  know 
any  more  about  them  than  you  do,"  Courtney  said  con- 
solingly, but  she  refused  to  be  comforted. 

"They  enjoy  them,  though.  That's  the  awful  thing 
about  me.  I  don't  really  enjoy  them  —  except  the  gar- 
goyles. I  believe  I  am  just  completely  discouraged  about 
myself." 

"  No,  you're  not.     You're  hungry.     It's  tea  time." 

Amelia's  face  lightened  perceptibly. 

"  Maybe  that  is  it.  I  knew  I  felt  queer.  But  then  that's 
discouraging  too.  It's  simply  awful,  but  I  actually  believe 
that  what  I'm  going  to  remember  best  about  places  in 
Europe  is  what  I  had  to  eat  in  them.  Someway  or  other, 
when  I  look  back  that's  all  that  seems  to  stand  out." 


JACOBITES  ALL  169 

"You'll  like  Edinburgh,"  Courtney  prophesied. 

She  didn't  look  altogether  hopeful. 

"I  don't  know  —  maybe.     Are  bannocks  good  ?" 

She  did  like  Edinburgh.  Who  doesn't  like  Edinburgh  ? 
And  then  there  was  Mrs.  Dalkeith.  Mrs.  Dalkeith's 
daughter  took  lodgers,  Mrs.  Dalkeith  entertained  them  — 
when  she  felt  so  inclined;  and  to  be  entertained  by  the 
little  old  Highland  lady  was  to  lose  one's  heart  to  Scotland 
for  all  time,  to  become  a  ranting  Jacobite,  to  soak  up 
Scottish  history  and  romance  at  every  pore. 

Belinda  and  she  were  already  fast  friends  and  when 
Belinda's  party  wandered  into  Number  One,  Castle  Ter- 
race, late  on  Saturday  afternoon,  Mrs.  Dalkeith,  in  her 
black  silk  and  Sunday  mutch,  was  waiting  in  her  own 
room  with  a  bright  fire  burning  on  the  hearth,  and  tea 
brewing. 

"Mother  says,  when  you've  laid  off  your  things  will 
you  come  to  her  for  a  drop  of  tea?"  the  landlady 
announced,  and  half  an  hour  later  Amelia  was  weeping 
copiously  over  the  lost  cause,  and  even  Mr.  Perkins  had 
allowed  historic  fact  to  falter  and  fall  before  the  onslaught 
of  Gaelic  romance. 

How  was  one  to  remember  Stuart  failings  when  a 
descendant  of  Highland  chieftains,  sitting  bolt  upright 
in  the  firelight  and  tossing  her  cap  strings  back  recklessly 
was  singing,  "Wha'll  be  King  but  Charlie?"  in  a  sweet, 
thin,  high  voice  through  which  the  spirit  of  a  warlike 


170  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

clan  thrilled  and  throbbed?  How  was  a  curly-headed 
sentimentalist  to  check  her  tears  when  she  heard  "Better 
lo'ed  ye  canna  be,  will  ye  no  come  back  again  ?"  for  the 
first  time,  from  Highland  lips  and  a  Highland  heart? 
And  for  that  matter,  Amelia  cried  over  everything  in  Edin- 
burgh. Her  pretty  nose  was  pink  for  five  successive 
days;  for  she  was  started  right  that  first  night,  and,  if  you 
are  started  right  in  old  Edinboro  toun  you  go  about  with 
your  heart  swelling  and  your  throat  aching  and  your 
brain  a-dream. 

"When  I'm  not  crying  because  I'm  sorry,  I'm  crying 
because  I'm  excited,"  Amelia  explained.  "It  doesn't 
make  any  difference  whether  it's  a  '  Better  lo'ed  ye  canna 
be'  kind  of  a  thing  or  a  '  Scots  wha'  hae '  kind  of  a  thing. 
I  have  to  cry  over  it  just  the  same." 

What  Mrs.  Dalkeith  had  begun  there  in  the  firelight, 
Saturday  night,  the  soldiers  from  the  castle  completed 
when  they  came  marching  down  to  church  at  St.  Giles 
on  Sunday. 

Belinda  had  been  looking  forward  to  that  Sunday 
herself. 

"It's  always  the  one  big  moment  of  the  trip,  for  me," 
she  confessed  to  Courtney.  She  had  a  way  of  taking 
him  into  her  confidence  now  that  gave  him  more  emotions 
than  any  assortment  of  Jacobite  ballads. 

"You  could  pile  all  the  picture  galleries  and  ruins  and 
churches  in  a  heap  and  give  me  my  choice  of  seeing  them 


JACOBITES  ALL  171 

or  of  seeing  the  Black  Watch  go  swinging  down  the  High 
Street,  and  I'd  turn  my  back  on  the  heap.  What's  culture 
compared  with  thrills  ?  " 

So  she  knew  what  to  expect  when  she  led  her  party  out 
irito  the  sanctified  Scottish  Sabbath,  but  Amelia  and 
Laura  May  were  unprepared  and  the  shock  of  joy  coming 
upon  them  suddenly,  bereft  them  of  what  little  semblance 
of  sanity  Nature  had  accorded  them. 

They  heard  the  band  as  they  hurried  along  a  side  street 
toward  the  line  of  march  and  Belinda  quickened  her  step 
to  a  jog  trot,  regardless  of  her  elderly  charges,  who  were 
already  lagging  far  behind. 

"We're  late,"  she  said  to  the  girls  and  Courtney  trotting 
at  her  side.  Nearer  and  nearer  came  the  music. 

"We'll  have  to  run  for  it,"  gasped  the  chaperon;  and 
throwing  dignity  to  the  winds  she  suited  action  to  the  word. 
Pell  mell  they  rushed  down  the  narrow  street,  bringing  up, 
breathless,  on  a  corner  from  which  they  could  look  toward 
the  Castle. 

There  they  came,  the  braw  laddies,  kilts  fluttering, 
sporans  swaying,  cap  ribbons  waving  in  the  wind,  their 
absurd  caps  rakishly  a-tilt,  their  sturdy  legs  stretching 
out  in  rhythmic  stride. 

Nowhere  else  on  earth  is  there  marching  like  it. 
Not  in  all  the  battalions  of  the  world  is  there  anything  to 
match  the  triumphant  swing  of  it.  The  man  who  can 
see  the  Black  Watch  and  their  mates  go  by  without  « 


172  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

tlirill  is  so  dead  that  a  coroner's  certificate  would  be 
a  work  of  supererogation.  As  for  the  women  —  well, 
it  was  natural  enough  that  Laura  May  and  Amelia  should 
hug  each  other  for  joy  in  the  sight,  but  Courtney  noted 
as  an  amazing  tribute  to  the  lads  in  kilts,  that  when 
they  had  passed,  he  found  himself  holding  Belinda's 
hand  and  that  haughty  young  woman  apparently  quite 
oblivious  of  the  fact. 

"Let's  follow  them,"  urged  Amelia,  and  they  followed 
them,  full  tilt  down  the  middle  of  the  street,  hearts  sAvel- 
ling,  cheeks  aglow,  lost  to  all  thought  of  decorum  — 
followed  them  until  they  were  swallowed  up  in  St.  Giles. 

There,  Belinda  came  out  of  her  trance. 

"Where  are  Mr.  Perkins  and  the  others?"  she  asked, 
looking  desperately  up  the  street.  "We  ran  away  from 
them.  It's  dreadful.  What  will  they  think  of  me !  Come 
girls,  we  must  go  back." 

The  girls  rebelled. 

"They'll  come  along  after  a  while,  and  they'll  want 
to  see  the  soldiers  come  out  if  they  missed  them  before. 
Let's  wait  until  after  service,  Miss  Carewe." 

Unable  to  secure  seats,  they  waited  outside,  Belinda, 
with  eyes  watching  for  the  belated,  the  girls  all  agog 
with  anticipation. 

"I  don't  feel  as  if  I  could  bear  it,"  Amelia  groaned, 
when  a  stir  inside  the  church  announced  that  the  appari- 
tion would  be  upon  her  again  in  a  moment  or  two. 


JACOBITES  ALL  173 

"If  I  fall  in  a  fit,  Miss  Carewe,  don't  mind  me.  Run 
right  on  after  them.  I  wish,  if  I'm  going  to  fall,  I'd  do 
it  in  front  of  them  so  that  they'd  march  over  me." 

There  was  the  tramp,  tramp  of  marching  feet,  a  flutter 
of  motion  and  colour  in  the  gray  doorway. 

Away  up  the  hill  went  the  kilties,  the  bagpipes  skirling 
them  up  as  the  band  played  them  down;  and  behind 
them  sprinted  two  pretty  girls,  red-cheeked,  excited,  deaf 
to  the  exhortation  and  pleading  of  a  third  pretty  girl  at 
their  heels. 

The  pipers  had  completed  the  utter  demoralization  of 
scruples  already  tottering  to  their  fall.  Amelia  and  Laura 
May  didn't  even  know  they  were  behaving  shockingly. 
If  they  had  known,  they  wouldn't  have  cared.  Only 
shortage  of  breath  prevented  their  shouting  "The  Camp- 
bells are  coming"  as  they  ran. 

When  Belinda  and  Courtney  finally  overtook  them, 
they  were  sitting  limply  on  a  gun  carriage  in  the  Castle 
Yard  while  a  slow-pacing  guard  studied  them  with  interest 
and  appreciation.  They  looked  up  as  their  chaperon 
appeared  but  had  no  apologies  to  offer,  felt  no  need  of 
apologies. 

"I  was  gooseflesh  all  over,"  announced  Amelia,  in  the 
colourless,  impersonal  accents  of  one  who  has  lived  through 
an  experience  exhausting  the  whole  range  of  human 
emotion. 

"The  officers  had   dirks   in  their  stockings,"   sighed 


174  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

Laura  May  dreamily,  as  one  who  recounts  marvels  seen 
in  a  beatific  vision. 

Belinda  led  them  home  and  fed  them,  but  even  food 
was  wasted  upon  them  in  their  exalted  mood  and  they 
fled  as  quickly  as  possible  to  Mrs.  Dalkeith's  room,  where 
for  the  rest  of  the  day  they  waded  through  the  gore  of 
fause  Southron  lords. 

"I  don't  believe  Lord  Bantholme  can  be  all  English," 
said  Laura  May  as  she  settled  herself  for  sleep  that  night. 
"It  seems  as  if  he  must  have  some  Scottish  blood." 

"He'd  be  lovely  in  kilts,"  murmured  Amelia  drowsily. 


CHAPTER  TEN 

LORD  BANTHOLME  DISPROVES  THE  THEORY  THAT 
ENGLISHMEN  ARE  SLOW 

PARTING  from  Edinburgh  was  a  melancholy  business  but 
only  Amelia  and  the  heavens  wept  and  the  thing  had 
become  a  matter  of  habit  with  both  of  them. 

"I'm  not  sure  what  I'm  crying  about,"  Amelia  ex- 
plained, wiping  her  eyes  on  a  Royal  Stuart  tartan  silk 
muffler  for  which  she  was  trying  to  find  a  place  in 
her  trunk.  "I  wish  I  hadn't  bought  anything 
more  this  morning.  I  oughtn't  to  have  gone  out 
at  all  but  I  did  need  some  baby  ribbon  dreadfully. 
And  then  when  I  went  down  on  Princes  Street  I 
forgot  what  I'd  gone  for  and  bought  plaid  things 
and  cairngorms  and  dirk  paper-knives.  I  don't  see 
how  anybody  could  buy  baby  ribbon  on  Princes 
Street.  It's  the  Castle  that  always  upsets  me.  No  matter 
where  you  go  there's  the  splendid  old  pile  frowning  down 
at  you  and  daring  you  to  think  about  everyday  things. 
The  minute  I  see  it,  something  begins  to  hum  inside  of 
me  and  then  I  hear  pipes  playing  and  claymores  clashing 
and  see  beacon  lights  burning  and  troops  mustering  and 

175 


17G  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

I'm  off  fighting  for  Prince  Charlie  and  sacrificing  all 
my  sons  for  him  and  being  beheaded  and  stuck  up  on 
gate  posts  for  him  —  and  how's  anybody  to  remember 
pale  blue  baby  ribbon  when  she's  feeling  like  that?" 

Laura  May  nodded  mournful  understanding. 

"It's  going  to  be  terrible  slow  when  wre  get  back  to 
having  ordinary  feelings,"  she  prophesied  gloomily. 

They  were  still  sombre  when  they  said  good-bye  to  Mrs. 
Dalkeith,  but  the  old  lady's  last  words  cheered  them 
considerably.  t 

"Dinna  greet,  lassies,"  she  said.  "Ye'll  be  comin' 
back.  The  auld  toun  aye  draws  them  back.  And  ye'll 
be  bringing  the  lads~ye  luve  to  let  me  mak'  Jacobites  o' 
them.  I'll  teach  ye  a'  a  bit  o'  the  Gaelic.  D'ye  ken 
there's  thirty -five  words  for  '  darlin'  '  in  the  Gaelic  ?  Oh, 
ay;  it's  the  gran'  tongue  for  luve  makin'  is  the  Gaelic. 
Ye  get  such  a  g-r-rip  o'  the  words." 

The  girls  were  quiet  on  the  way  to  the  station,  but  as 
the  train  pulled  out,  Amelia  voiced  their  common 
thought. 

"Don't  the  Scotch  girls  have  all  the  luck!"  she  said 
with  an  envious  sigh.  "Think  of  having  a  lover  that 
wore  kilts  and  talked  Gaelic!" 

"But  wouldn't  he  be  a  holy  show  on  Broadway?" 
Courtney  suggested. 

His  point  of  view  made  an  impression. 

"Yes,"  Amelia  admitted.     "You  do  need  a  lot  of  them 


DISPROVES  A  THEORY  177 

together,  and  one  couldn't  marry  a  regiment  —  and 
nobody'd  want  to  live  here  and  be  damp  and  excited  all 
her  life.  But  there's  nothing  like  them,  nothing  at  all 
like  them." 

She  leaned  forward  and  blew  a  kiss  from  her  finger- 
tips toward  the  Castle. 

The  Trossachs  veiled  their  heads  in  mist.  Loch 
Katrine  and  Loch  Lomond  were  leaden  gray  under  a 
beating  rain. 

Glasgow  was  dour  and  inhospitable  for  three  hours,  and 
the  Burns  country  was  "a  bit  saft."  Even  the  inn-keeper 
at  Ayr  acknowledged  that,  and  he  was  a  conservative 
body  who  refused  to  abandon  his  attitude  of  suspicious 
reserve  even  for  Belinda,  though  he  did  relax  slightly 
under  her  smiles. 

"  Ye'll  no  be  American  ?"  he  hazarded  as  he  led  her  to 
look  at  rooms. 

"Oh,  yes." 

"Then  ye'll  no  be  frae  the  States  ?" 

"Indeed  I  am.     Why  not  ?" 

He  retired  into  himself  and  pretended  he  had  not  heard 
the  question. 

"What  made  you  think  I  wasn't  American  ?"  Belinda 
insisted. 

He  gave  her  a  sidewise  glance. 

"Weel,"  he  explained  cautiously,  "you're  no  sae 
pronoonced  as  some." 


178  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

And  in  the  light  of  past  experience  with  touring  fellow 
countrymen,  Belinda  understood  what  he  meant. 

At  Stratford,  the  sun  was  shining.  The  phenomenon 
called  forth  unqualified  approval  from  all  of  the  party 
and  moved  Laura  May  to  disloyalty. 

"Of  course,  Scotland  was  splendid,"  she  began.  There 
was  a  depreciatory  note  in  the  prelude  and  every  one  looked 
at  her  in  surprise.  "But  sleeping  on  the  heather  and 
'pu'ing  gowans  fine'  and  all  those  stunts  in  the  songs 
would  be  mighty  wet  and  cold  and  uncomfortable.  I 
don't  believe  the  Highlanders  deserved  such  a  lot  of 
credit  for  fighting  all  the  time,  after  all.  They  had  to 
do  it  to  keep  warm.  Edinburgh  was  splendid,  but  I'm 
glad  to  get  some  place  where  I  can  dry  out.  I  believe 
I'm  mildewed." 

"I  wish  we'd  come  out  in  a  place  where  we  could  just 
dry  and  didn't  have  to  do  anything  else." 

Amelia  had  a  Baedeker  in  her  hand  and  looked  dis- 
couraged. 

"  There's  such  a  lot  of  Shakespeare  and  he's  so  important 
you  can't  very  well  skip  him.  I  do  hate  men  like  that. 
A  tomb's  all  right  and  I  don't  mind  seeing  where  some- 
body was  born,  when  it's  just  a  house  and  you  don't  have 
to  do  anything  but  look  at  it,  but  I  don't  think  it's  fair  to 
make  it  into  a  museum.  And  then  if  you've  got  to  see 
where  he  went  to  school  and  where  he  courted  his  wife 
and  where  he  sat  under  a  mulberry  tree  and  where  he 


DISPROVES  A  THEORY  179 

got  arrested  and  things  like  that,  you  haven't  hardly  any 
time  left  for  enjoying  yourself  and  buying  souvenirs  and 
photographs.  We'd  better  start  out  right  away,  Miss 
Carewe." 

Mr.  Perkins  had  gradually  grown  accustomed  to 
Amelia.  Her  unfailing  good  nature  and  readiness  to 
serve  him  in  little  ways  had  tempered  his  disapproval, 
and  her  prettiness  had  moved  him  to  tolerance.  Even 
a  hypochondriac  is  also  a  man.  But  her  attitude  toward 
Shakespeare  was  too  much  for  his  forbearance.  He 
led  Belinda  aside. 

"Miss  Carewe,  if  you  will  take  that  flighty  young 
person  and  anybody  who  can  stand  her,  with  you 
and  let  me  make  the  holy  pilgrimages  of  this  sacred  place 
without  a  sacrilegious  poll  parrot  at  my  elbow,  I'll  be 
very  grateful  to  you.  She  amuses  me  at  times  —  but 
not  here  —  not  here." 

Belinda  hastily  agreed  to  the  proposition.  He  showed 
signs  of  fizzing  and  she  remembered  Lord  Bantholme's 
advice  to  keep  him  dry  and  in  a  dark  place.  Moreover, 
she  understood  how  he  felt.  She  would  have  felt  that 
way  herself  on  her  first  visit  to  Stratford,  but  four  pil- 
grimages had  dulled  her  enthusiasm  to  such  a  degree 
that  she  felt  reconciled  to  skipping  the  mulberry  tree,  if 
nothing  more. 

So  Mr.  Perkins  and  his  sister,  Mrs.  Bagby  and  Mrs. 
Nicholson  went  forth  with  rapt  faces  turned  toward  the 


180  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

Birthplace,  and  the  other  four  graceless  members  of  the 
party  stood  in  the  doorway  of  the  hotel  wavering  between 
the  tomb  and  the  courting  place. 

A  joyous  honking  was  borne  to  them  on  the  summer 
breeze.  Two  big  motor  cars  came  plunging  down  the 
street.  The  four  viewed  them  without  excitement. 
Motors  were  thick  as  souvenir  paper  weights  in  Strat- 
ford. But  if  they  were  calm,  the  driver  of  the  first  car 
was  not.  As  he  caught  sight  of  them  he  wrung  a  wild 
exultant  shriek  from  his  horn  and  let  out  a  yell  of  welcome 
which  brought  startled  tradespeople  to  their  shop  windows. 

A  moment  later,  Lord  Bantholme  was  shaking  hands 
with  the  four  Americans  and  the  impassive  Sykes  in  the 
second  car  was  waiting  for  orders. 

"But  I  thought  you  were  to  join  us  at  Oxford,"  said 
the  chaperon. 

"Oh,  what's  the  use?"  inquired  the  Earl  vaguely  but 
conclusively.  "I  figured  you'd  be  around  this  neighbour- 
hood somewhere  and  that  I  could  find  you  by  skimming 
around  a  bit.  Struck  it  right,  the  very  first  try.  Where 
were  you  going?" 

They  explained  the  situation  and  offered  him  a  choice 
between  the  cottage  and  the  tomb. 

"  Why  not  go  boating  ? '"  he  asked  with  an  air  of  hurt 
surprise.  He  was  disappointed  in  them.  Their  imagi- 
nations were  evidently  barren. 

The  girls   hailed   him   as   one   bearing    glad    tidings. 


DISPROVES  A  THEORY  181 

Courtney's  face  expanded  into  a  smile  of  relief.  Only 
Belinda,  handicapped  by  a  sense  of  responsibility,  insisted 
that  the  girls  must  see  the  sights  starred  in  Baedeker,  and 
her  objections  were  overruled. 

"I  can  show  them  all  to  you  in  a  half-hour,  with 
the  car,"  Lord  Bantholme  assured  her.  "  We'll  do  it 
when  we  come  back.  This  is  such  a  rippin'  morning 
for  a  row." 

They  went,  and,  as  the  church  spire  faded  out  of  sight 
and  the  village  was  left  behind,  spirits  soared  and  laughter 
came  freely. 

"It's  all  wrong,  you  know,"  Belinda  confided  to  Court- 
ney. "I  ought  to  have  led  them  around  solemnly  and 
told  them  what  to  feel  —  but  they  wouldn't  have  felt  it. 
It's  so  hard  for  any  body  to  feel  the  real  things  in  Strat- 
ford now.  I  think  the  word  smug  must  have  been  invented 
to  fit  the  place.  It's  so  horribly  thriving  and  clean  and 
prosperous  —  all  on  a  dead  man's  bones,  and  it  is  so 
tourist-ridden.  Shakespeare's  the  best  comrade  in  the 
world,  but  not  in  Stratford.  All  his  winged  fancy  has 
been  translated  into  hard  cash  here.  I  wonder  whether 
he  loved  boating  on  the  Avon.  He  seems  nearer  here 
than  he  did  in  the  town." 

The  boat  stole  around  the  curve  of  an  island,  thick 
set  with  waving  rushes,  crept  along  under  overhanging 
willows,  held  its  course  between  low  green  banks  beyond 
which  broad  meadows  wandered  away  to  meet  far  wooded 


182  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

hills,  passed  huge  rambling  old  houses  bowered  in  tree 
and  vine  and  shrub. 

"  It's  all  so  green,  so  green,  so  green,"  chanted  Amelia 
in  time  with  the  dip  of  the  oars. 

"And  so  peaceful,"  added  Belinda  dreamily. 

"And  so  jolly  far  away  from  the  museum.  Whenever  you 
want  to  eat,  there's  a  motor  hamper  under  the  stern  seat." 

Lord  Bantholme  was  happy  but  not  poetic. 

They  scorned  his  carnal  suggestion;  but,  an  hour  or 
two  later,  sitting  on  a  grassy  bank  under  a  spreading 
tree,  with  the  boat  moored  close  beside  them,  they  went 
through  tnat  hamper  like  a  devouring  locust  horde. 

And  then,  while  the  two  men  stretched  out  at  full 
length  on  the  thick,  green  turf,  smoked  silently,  and  the 
girls,  quiet,  for  once,  idly  watched  the  rippling  water  and 
the  cloud-shadows  afloat  on  the  meadow,  Belinda  read 
snatches  from  a  little  leather-bound  copy  of  "As  You 
Like  It,"  which  she  had  bought  in  the  hotel  that  morn- 
ing, and  Courtney,  watching  her  from  beneath  a  hat 
pulled  low  over  his  eyes,  mutely  called  her  Rosalind  and 
echoed  Orlando's  love  words  in  his  heart. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  the  boat  was  tied  up 
to  her  dock  one  more;  and  the  motor  flight  by  which  the 
chaperon  eased  her  conscience  before  supper  was  almost 
as  brief  as  Lord  Bantholme  had  planned.  Even  so,  they 
did  not  have  time  to  see  Anne  Hathaway 's  cottage,  but 
the  Earl  consoled  them  for  that.  "  We'll  stroll  over  there 


DISPROVES  A  THEORY  183 

to-night  in  the  moonlight,"  he  said.  "That's  what  Shake- 
peare  used  to  do  if  he  was  the  foxy  boy  I  think  he  was; 
and  I'd  rather  walk  with  him  than  ride  out  in  a  barouche 
and  be  shown  through  the  house  at  sixpence  a  head. 
Who  wants  to  see  the  inside  of  the  bally  old  house  anyway  ? 
Anne  isn't  living  there  now  and,  if  she  does  comeback, 
I'll  bet  she  and  William  haunt  the  garden  and  the  door- 
steps on  moonlight  summer  nights." 

They  saw  Anne  Hathaway's  garden  lying  white  in  the 
moonlight  and  sweet  with  the  scent  of  mignonette  and 
roses  dew-wet,  and  they  came  back  between  the  hedge- 
rows along  the  village  street,  with  lingering  steps. 

"After  all,  I  believe  a  fellow  might  be  a  poet  in  Strat- 
ford even  now  —  if  he  burned  his  Baedeker,"  said 
Courtney. 

Mrs.  Bagby  was  alone  in  the  reading  room  when  the 
younger  members  of  her  party  reached  the  hotel  after 
their  walk,  and  Lord  Bantholme  straightway  led  her 
aside  and  organized  an  offensive  and  defensive  alliance 
with  her. 

"You  see,  I'd  like  to  drive  the  whole  crowd  over  to 
Warwick  and  Kenilworth  and  on  down  to  Oxford  and 
London,"  he  explained,  "but  Mr.  Perkins  won't  go." 

"Why  not?" 

He  told  the  story  of  the  last  motor  invitation. 

Mrs.  Bagby  sniffed  contemptuously. 

"Poppycock!" 


184  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

"But  you  should  have  seen  him.  I  wouldn't  dare 
mention  a  motor  to  him.  I  wouldn't  even  have  the  nerve 
to  speak  of  anything  beginning  with  M  where  he  could 
hear  me." 

"  I'll  tell  him  we  are  going." 

Bantholnie   looked   at  her  with  admiration  and  awe. 

"  Talk  about  your  thin  red  line  of  'erocs ! " 

"  You  leave  him  to  me,  son.     He'll  go." 

After  breakfast  the  next  morning,  she  cornered  Mr. 
Perkins  in  the  parlor  and  laid  down  the  law  to  him.  He 
raved,  he  fumed,  he  expressed  his  clearly  defined  opinion 
of  automobiles.  She  listened,  placid  and  unmoved. 

"I  won't  go,  Madame,  I  won't  go.  I've  never  ridden 
in  one  of  the  infernal  things  — 

"That's  why  you  hate  them,"  Mrs.  Bagby  explained 
soothingly.  "They  do  say  it  makes  a  heap  of  difference 
whether  you're  running  over  people  or  being  run  over. 
And  anyway,  we  women  want  to  go  in  automobiles 
and  you  may  as  well  make  up  your  mind  to  it.  That's 
what  you  get  for  being  a  man.  We  can't  vote,  but  we 
make  up  for  it  by  not  counting  the  men's  votes  except  at 
general  elections.  You're  too  young  to  be  allowed  your 
own  way,  Mr.  Perkins.  'Tain't  good  for  you.  And  you 
ought  to  keep  up  with  the  times  too,  even  if  you  have  to 
travel  by  motor  to  do  it.  You've  fooled  around  with 
mummies  and  Babylonian  tablets  and  such  until  you 
think  you're  as  old  as  they  are,  instead  of  being  just  in 


DISPROVES  A  THEORY  185 

your  prime.  That's  how  you've  got  the  idea  you  aren't 
able  to  do  things.  A  man  with  a  brain  like  yours  can 
do  whatever  he  wants  to  do.  That  ain't  Christian  Science 
either.  That's  just  horse  sense.  Look  how  you  played 
shuffleboard!  I  expect  you  could  run  a  car  as  easy  as 
look.  Maybe  you'd  like  it.  People  miss  lots  of  fun 
just  by  not  finding  out  what  fun  they're  missing.  Now 
you  come  along  and  don't  pretend  you  are  a  fidgety 
old  man  when  you're  not." 

Mr.  Perkins  went  along.  He  even  swelled  his  chest 
and  straightened  his  shoulders.  When  a  man  was  in 
his  prime,  there  was  no  reason  why  he  should 
stoop. 

He  was  given  the  place  of  honour  on  the  front  seat  of 
the  car  which  the  Earl  himself  was  to  drive.  Moreover, 
the  driving  was  of  a  conservative  sort  which  brought  an 
expression  of  pain  to  the  ordinarily  emotionless  face  of 
Sykes,  following  in  the  other  car,  and  Lord  Bantholme's 
conversation  showed  a  surprising  tendency  to  run  along 
lines  of  historic  research.  Not  for  nothing  had  he  boned 
up  on  guide  books  during  the  early  morning  hours. 

Mr.  Perkins's  mood  softened,  expanded. 

"  Do  you  know,  I  find  motoring  quite  refreshing.  Upon 
my  word  I  really  do.  There's  something  one  might 
call  exhilarating  about  it." 

Lord  Bantholme  promptly  let  the  car  out  a  notch  or 
two,  but  the  little  man  beside  him  paid  no  attention  to 


180  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

the  increase  in  speed.  He  was  watching  with  placid 
interest  two  plunging  horses  attached  to  a  farm  cart. 

"  People  really  ought  to  keep  their  horses  off  the  public 
roads  if  they  are  afraid  of  automobiles,"  he  said  peev- 
ishly, as  he  looked  back  over  his  shoulder  to  see  the  end 
of  the  struggle,  and  a  subdued  chuckle  sounded  from  the 
tonneau  where  Mrs.  Bagby,  with  laughter  wrinkles 
round  her  eyes,  had  been  listening  to  the  conversation 
on  the  front  seat. 

Gradually  that  conversation  drifted  around  to  Oxford. 
Lord  Bantholme  was  positively  illuminating  on  the  subject 
of  Oxford. 

"I'm  a  Christ  Church  man  myself,"  he  explained,  and 
he  embarked  upon  an  account  of  the  historic  and  arch- 
aeological treasures  of  Oxfordshire  which  moved  Mr. 
Perkins  to  something  like  excitement. 

Just  there,  Mrs.  Bagby  lost  track  of  the  conversation. 
The  car  was  running  along  the  main  street  of  a  little 
village  and  a  butcher's  boy  apparently  plunged  under 
the  front  wheels. 

The  car  stopped  with  a  jerk,  the  women  shut  their  eyes, 
Mrs.  Nicholson  screamed;  but  Mr.  Perkins's  voice  rose 
irritated  but  reassuring. 

"He's  all  right,  ladies.  That  was  a  narrow  escape, 
Lord  Bantholme,  a  very  narrow  escape.  You  were 
extremely  quick.  It's  queer  how  clumsy  and  careless 
people  are  about  getting  in  the  way  of  cars  —  criminally 


DISPROVES  A  THEORY  187 

careless  I  should  say.     It  must  be  most  annoying  for  a 
driver.     You  tooted  your  horn  distinctly  twice." 

Mrs.  Bagby,  still  nerve-shaken,  laughed  weakly. 

"  Didn't  I  tell  you  it  made  a  difference  whether  you  were 
the  chaser  or  the  chasee?"  she  asked,  but  her  question 
was  ignored. 

It  was  while  the  party  was  lunching,  that  day,  in  the 
dining  room  of  the  Warwick  Arms,  that  Mr.  Perkins's 
newly  acquired  interest  in  Oxfordshire  flowered  into 
expression. 

"  Lord  Bantholme  has  made  a  very  delightful  proposal," 
he  began  blandly. 

The  Earl  looked  modest.    Every  one  else  looked  curious. 

"  It  seems  he  has  a  place  in  Oxfordshire,"  Mr.  Perkins 
continued.  "  The  district  is  a  very  interesting  one,  Miss 
Carewe,  very.  I  don't  mean  to  be  officious  in  making 
the  suggestion.  I  know  you  have  your  route  mapped 
out  and  your  plans  all  made.  I  don't  even  know  that  it 
would  be  possible  to  change,  but  the  young  gentleman 
thinks  that  I  would  be  deeply  interested.  It  seems  the 
British  village  is  quite  near  Bantholme  Hall,  and  arch- 
aeologists consider  it  most  important.  And  Godstow 
Nunnery  is  a  twelfth-century  ruin,  and  then  there  are 
several  moated  dwelling  houses  and  Oxford  itself  is  within 
easy  reach.  The  Bodleian  library  ought  not  to  be  passed 
over  hastily.  There  are  some  rare  old  volumes  in  the 
Bantholme  library,  too.  "Now,  if  we  could  accept  the 


188  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

Earl's    invitation  for  a  few  days  without    disarranging 
your  plans  too  much  and  disappointing  the  ladies  — 

Belinda  turned  to  Lord  Bantholme.  He  met  her 
quizzical  look  with  the  utmost  solemnity.  Mrs.  Bagby 
choked  over  her  fish.  The  girls  waited  breathlessly. 

"It  would  put  you  to  a  great  inconvenience,  Lord 
Bantholme." 

''Not  at  all,  Miss  Carewe.  I've  an  old  housekeeper 
there  who's  always  ready  for  me.  She's  one  of  my  failures. 
I  began  proposing  to  her  when  I  was  four.  It  isn't  a 
bad  old  place,  you  know.  I  think  you'd  like  it.  Do 
say  you'll  come." 

She  looked  at  the  two  eager  girls,  at  Mrs.  Nicholson 
smiling  assent,  at  Mrs.  Bagby  beaming  upon  the  diplomat,  at 
Courtney,  appreciatively  a-grin,  and  accepted  the  invitation. 

"  Is  there  a  moat  ?  "  asked  Laura  May,  as  they  motored 
to  Kenilworth  that  afternoon.  She  had  supplanted  Mr. 
Perkins  on  the  front  seat. 

"No;  but  there's  a  family  ghost." 

"  And  a  rose  garden  ?  " 

"A  corker." 

"And  a  sun-dial?" 

"Well,  rather." 

"  And  a  brick  wall  with  fruit  trees  all  spread  out  against 
it." 

"  Wait  till  you  see  it." 

"  And  tea  on  the  lawn  ?  " 


DISPROVES  A  THEORY  189 

"With  scones  and  jam." 

"It  sounds  like  Heaven." 

"  You  could  make  it  a  heaven  on  earth  for  me." 

And  then  there  was  silence  on  that  front  seat,  a  rich, 
creamy  silence  in  which  Laura  May  heard  and  counted 
her  heartbeats. 

"  I've  heard  that  Englishmen  were  slow,"  Mrs.  Bagby 
was  saying  to  Belinda  in  the  other  car,  "but  that  lad 
seems  to  have  quite  a  momentum.  I'd  have  said  you 
couldn't  drag  Mr.  Perkins  to  Bantholme  Hall,  and  now 
he's  dragging  us  there.  That  cherub-faced  British  infant 
has  made  him  believe  the  whole  visit  is  planned  entirely 
on  his  account.  I  wonder  if  there  really  are  any  ruins 
and  mouldy  old  books.  I  suppose  you  know  what's 
going  to  happen,  Miss  Carewe  ?  " 

Belinda  nodded. 

"Well,  you're  her  chaperon  and  I  must  say  he's  sort 
of  changed  my  ideas  about  foreign  noblemen,  but  what 
will  her  folks  say  to  you  if  you  let  her  take  up  with  some- 
body they've  never  seen  ?  " 

The  chaperon  smiled.     She  knew  Laura  May's  mother. 

"  They  will  dedicate  a  family  altar  to  me  and  burn  candles 

on  it,  dear  Lady.  He's  an  English  Earl,  and  a  wealthy 

English  Earl.     And  he's  a  darling,"  she  added  quickly. 

"That's  the  real  reason  why  I'm  not  interfering." 

The  tale  of  the  historic  spots  un visited,  the  early  Italian 
madonnas  unseen,  the  tombs  on  which  no  tear  was 


190  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

dropped,  the  famous  statues  neglected,  all  in  order  that 
the  Carewe  party  might  spend  a  week  at  Bantholme 
Hall  without  utterly  demoralizing  Miss  Barnes's  carefully 
arranged  schedule,  will  never  be  told. 

Belinda  cut  and  slashed  with  ruthless  hand  and  clear 
conscience.  Had  not  the  vote  for  the  change  been  unani- 
mous and  enthusiastic? 

"Cut  out  all  the  backachy  things,"  Amelia  urged. 
"This  is  something  Cook's  parties  don't  do.  Anybody 
that  comes  over  here  can  talk  about  Cologne  Cathedral 
and  the  Venus  de  Milo  and  the  Sistine  Madonna.  I'm 
not  going  to  bother  about  that  when  I  go  home,  but  I 
rather  guess  I'll  have  Spartaville,  Georgia,  going  when  I 
begin  to  drop  remarks  about  the  way  they  serve  melons 
at  Bantholme  Hall,  and  the  afternoon  Lord  Ban  tholme's 
Panhard  carried  us  a  hundred  miles  between  luncheon 
and  tea  time,  and  just  casually  refer  to  the  Earl's  tenantry 
and  kennels  and  orchids.  "Good  gracious!  Spartaville 
won't  care  whether  I  know  Raphael  from  Howard 
Chandler  Christy." 

The  days  of  the  visit  were  fleet-footed.  The  ruins  and 
libraries  fulfilled  Mr.  Perkins's  fondest  expectations  and  the 
companionship  of  a vicarsoaked  in  archaeological  and  schol- 
arly lore  filled  his  cup  to  the  brim.  Lord  Bantholme  as- 
signed a  car  and  chauffeur  to  them  and  turned  them  loose. 

Mrs.  Bagby  established  friendly  relations  with  the 
housekeeper,  fraternized  with  the  head  gardener  and 


DISPROVES  A  THEORY  191 

farmer,  and  accumulated  a  wealth  of  knowledge  about 
English  soils  and  fertilizers  and  maid  servants  and  butch- 
ers' bills.  Miss  Perkins  found  a  kindred  soul  in  the 
vicar's  wife  and  went  about  with  her  distributing  tea  and 
tracts  and  underwear  and  advice  to  the  cottagers,  while 
Mrs.  Nicholson  was  content  to  wander  about  the  box- 
bordered  walks  of  the  wonderful  old  garden,  to  doze  in 
the  sunshine  on  the  terrace  where  the  peacocks  trailed 
their  gorgeous  blues  and  greens,  to  drink  tea  out  of  old 
Lowestoft  that  filled  her  heart  with  joy,  and  to  be  waited 
upon  by  noiseless,  deft-handed  servants  such  as  she  had 
dreamed  of  in  imaginative  mood. 

"  Isn't  it  a  blessing  to  see  the  dear  things  having  what 
they  individually  love,  instead  of  what  is  collectively 
good  for  them  ?  "  Belinda  said  to  Courtney.  This  week 
was  an  oasis  in  the  desert  of  responsibility  for  her  and 
her  soul  was  stretching  itself  luxuriously  and  taking  its 
ease.  Dust  would  have  collected  on  her  Baedeker  had 
the  housekeeping  tenets  admitted  dust;  but  Thyrsis  and 
The  Scholar  Gipsy  travelled  in  her  coat  pocket.  It  was 
a  surprise  to  her  to  find  that  Courtney  knew  his  Arnold, 
too.  One  didn't  expect  young  men  with  broad  shoulders 
and  laughing  eyes  and  rampant  spirits  to  quote 

"  Sweet  William  with  his  homely  cottage  smell, 
And  stocks  in  fragrant  blow; 
Roses  that  down  alleys  shine  afar, 
And  open,  jasmine-muffled  lattices, 
And  groups  under  the  dreaming  garden  trees, 
And  the  full  moon  and  the  white  evening  star," 


192  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

when  one  strolled  down  garden  paths  with  him  in  the 
long  English  gloaming  —  but  it  was  rather  pleasant  to 
find  that  a  man  could  love  poetry  even  if  his  circulation 
was  good  and  his  digestion  unimpaired. 

She  tried  to  read  "Thyrsis"  to  Lord  Bantholme  and  the 
girls  one  day  as  they  punted  up  the  Cherwell  to  Islip,  but 
she  did  not  get  beyond 

"In  the  two  Hinkseys  nothing  keeps  the  same." 

Both  Amelia  and  Laura  May  took  exception  to  the 
Hinkseys  and  refused  to  hear  more  from  a  man  capable 
of  dragging  towns  of  that  name  into  a  poem. 

Lord  Bantholme  came  to  the  defense  of  his  neighbour- 
hood. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  the  Hinkseys  ?  "  he  asked  in 
an  injured  tone.  "There's  a  bully  walk  up  past  South 
Hinksey  to  Boar's  Hill.  The  poetry  may  be  slush.  I 
can't  stand  poetry  myself;  but  the  Hinkseys  are  all  right." 

After  that  Belinda  turned  only  to  Courtney  for  sympathy 
with  poetic  moods,  and  that  young  man  called  down 
blessings  upon  the  head  of  the  once  execrated  Yale  pro- 
fessor who,  being  a  devotee  of  Arnold  himself,  had  tried 
by  every  means  short  of  surgery  to  force  appreciation  of 
that  poet  into  the  heads  of  unreceptive  students.  A  com- 
mon taste  in  poetry  is  a  potent  thing  in  a  midsummer 
world. 

Such  a  beautiful  English  midsummer  world  it  was, 
where  the  sun  was  not  too  hot  nor  the  breeze  too  cool; 


DISPROVES  A  THEORY  193 

a  world  of  forest  glades  and  sunlit  meadows  and  green 
muffled  hills  and  winding  country  lanes;  a  world  where 
one  lingered  among  beechen  greens,  floated  along  capri- 
cious winding  streams,  dallied  in  rose-sweet,  old-world 
gardens  and  stole  out  through  moonlight  and  night  shadows 
to  hear  the  nightingales  sing. 

Even  the  towns  shared  the  glamour.  Was  not  Oxford 
a  place  of  picturesque,  haunted  streets  and  still,  green 
quadrangles,  of  enchanted  garden  closes  and  lime-tree 
walks  and  gray  arches  and  fairy  towers? 

"Oh,  the  poor,  poor  people  who  don't  see  anything  in 
England  except  the  sights,"  groaned  Amelia  on  the  last 
afternoon  of  the  visit. 

"  I  never  realized  how  new  and  nervous  we  are  over  in 
America  until  now.  I've  visited  at  big  country  houses 
over  there,  but  they  hadn't  had  time  to  settle  and  every- 
thing was  raw  around  the  edges." 

"Horrid  word,  'raw'!"  objected  Laura  May. 

"Yes,  isn't  it  horrid?  So's  the  thing.  Everything  is 
done  all  the  way  through,  here." 

"Overdone  in  spots."  Lord  Bantholme  looked  ruefully 
at  a  crumbling  wing  of  the  hall  which  cried  out  for  restora- 
tion. 

"No,  it  isn't  spotty.  That's  just  it."  Amelia  was 
getting  involved. 

"It's  all  of  a  beautiful  consistency,"  said  Belinda, 
coming  to  the  rescue.  "Everything  rhymes.  I  never 


1-J4  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

knew  what  peace  was  before.  The  house  is  peaceful, 
the  country  is  peaceful,  the  life  is  peaceful.  I  suppose 
there  is  strife  and  suffering  outside  somewhere,  but  they 
don't  touch  one  in  these  English  country  homes." 

"Oh,  yes,  they  do."  The  Earl's  jolly  boyish  face  took 
on  a  hint  of  gravity  for  the  moment.  "  There  are  under- 
currents, Miss  Carewe.  It  isn't  all  beer  and  skittles 
for  the  luckiest  of  us,  and  no  honest  Englishman's  satisfied 
with  English  conditions  to-day." 

"  Now  you're  going  to  talk  politics,"  interrupted  Amelia. 
"And  English  politics  are  so  ghastly  serious.  Let's  not 
have  it  on  our  last  afternoon.  I'd  rather  believe  all  the 
world  is  as  beautiful  as  this  and  everybody  in  it  as  satisfied 
as  I  am." 

"  Shall  we  have  some  tennis  before  tea  ?  "  Lord  Ban- 
tholme  rose  lazily,  the  earnestness  fading  from  his  face. 

"No,  croquet,"  Belinda  amended.  "Croquet's  so 
beautifully  English.  I've  put  on  white  muslin  and  blue 
ribbons  on  purpose,  and  the  curate's  coming  for  tea." 

"The  deuce  he  is!" 

She  nodded  serenely. 

"Yes,  I  met  him  yesterday  when  I  went  down  to  the 
village  with  Mr.  Perkins  and  the  vicar  and  it  struck  me 
right  away  how  well  he'd  go  with  blue  ribbons  and  cro- 
quet, so  I  invited  him." 

"Why,  I  don't  believe  I  know  the  fellow." 

"  That's  what  he  said.     He's  new  here,  but  I  told  him 


DISPROVES  A  THEORY  195 

you'd  be  delighted  to  have  him,  just  the  same.  You 
don't  mind,  do  you  ?  He's  pink  and  white  and  bashful  - 
exactly  like  the  curates  in  English  novels.  That's  why 
I  invited  him.  You  needn't  bother  about  him,  you  know. 
I'll  take  care  of  him.  He'll  be  easy  to  take  care  of  if 
one  doesn't  frighten  him." 

The  complete  and  utter  demoralization  of  that  unfor- 
tunate pink  and  white  curate  was  Belinda's  last  achieve- 
ment at  Bantholme  Hall.  When  he  departed  after 
staying  for  dinner  and  passing  a  blissful  but  agitated 
evening,  she  waved  him  farewell  from  the  terrace  and 
dropped  back  in  her  chair  with  a  contented  sigh. 

"Don't  talk  to  me  about  fiction  being  misleading," 
she  said.  "  I  feel  as  if  I'd  read  the  man  instead  of  spend- 
ing the  evening  with  him.  Now  I  can't  think  of  anything 
lacking  in  this  visit,  Lord  Bantholme  —  unless  you  could 
come  of  age  and  have  rejoicing  tenantry  and  booths  and 
refreshments  and  fireworks  and  speeches.  That  always 
reads  well,  but  it's  rather  late  in  the  evening  for  it  and 
we  are  going  so  early  in  the  morning.  The  curate  says 
he  always  gets  up  early  anyway." 

Some  one  else  must  have  risen  early,  on  that  last  morn- 
ing; for,  before  Belinda  had  left  her  bed,  she  heard  the 
sound  of  horses'  hoofs  on  the  gravel  and  a  sheaf  of  deep- 
hearted  yellow  roses  came  hurtling  through  the  window 
and  dropped  upon  the  floor  beside  her. 

None  like  them  grew  in  the  Hall  gardens  but  she 


196  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

remembered  having  seen  them  running  riot  over  a  cottage 
at  Nuneham  one  day  as  they  motored  by  and  having 
wished  for  a  bunch  of  them. 

Only  one  person  had  heard  the  spoken  wish. 

She  buried  her  face  in  the  reses  and  kept  it  hidden 
there  for  a  few  minutes,  but  not  long  enough  for  a  tell- 
tale flush  to  die. 

"It's  a  pity  he's  horrid,"  she  said  to  herself  with  a 
wishful  curve  of  the  lips. 

"But,"  she  added  firmly,  "he  is." 

Then  she  put  the  roses  carefully  in  water. 


CHAPTER  ELEVEN 

THE   CAREWE    PARTY    DODGES   156   PAGES    OF    SIGHTS  AND 
IS   PROUD   OF   IT 

IN  London,  Belinda  found  a  cablegram  from  Laura 
May's  father. 

"Your  letter  and  Earl's  received.  No  objection. 
Push  matter.  Writing." 

Her  first  impulse  was  to  repeat  a  part  of  the  message 
to  Lord  Bantholme.  On  second  thoughts,  she  decided 
not  to  mention  it.  The  two  young  things  could  afford 
to  wait  and  Laura  May  would  probably  be  incapacitated 
for  rational  sightseeing  as  soon  as  she  was  definitely 
engaged. 

So  the  Earl  was  told  that  if  he  heard  favourably  from 
Mr.  Lee,  he  might  join  the  party  in  Paris;  and,  with 
that  crumb  of  comfort  was  left  standing  in  the  Great 
Eastern  station,  staring  disconsolately  at  the  departing 
train. 

Of  course  he  hadn't  the  faintest  idea  of  waiting  for 
Paris  and  of  course  the  flinty-hearted  chaperon  didn't 
expect  him  to  wait  and  would  have  scorned  him  if  he  had 
been  willing  to  do  it,  but  for  the  time  being  he  was  alone 

197 


198  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

in  London.  None  of  the  five  million  souls  stranded 
there  with  him  was  of  sufficient  importance  to  be 
counted. 

He  took  a  cab  to  his  club  and  sat  down  to  write  to  Laura 
May.  One  must  kill  time  in  some  way. 

A  week  later,  he  received  an  answer  to  the  letter  he  had 
written  Mr,  Lee,  a  dignified  answer  full  of  feeling  and 
well  rounded  periods.  Laura  May's  father  was  a  Vir- 
ginia colonel  and  he  knew  an  opening  for  rhetoric  when 
he  saw  one.  He  mentioned  his  family  here  and  there 
throughout  the  twenty  pages.  One  might  almost  say 
that  he  insisted  upon  the  Lees.  He  dwelt  touchingly 
upon  the  part  Laura  May  had  played  in  the  home  circle. 
He  showed  no  unseemly  eagerness  in  regard  to  the 
proposed  alliance.  Indeed,  he  acknowledged  that  sel- 
fishness prompted  him  to  forbid  the  banns,  but  that 
affection  for  his  daughter  was  stronger  than  personal 
interest.  If  she  loved  the  Earl  her  parents  would  put 
aside  their  natural  prejudices  and  with  bleeding  hearts 
give  their  consent  to  the  union.  Incidentally  he  mentioned 
that  he  had  written  to  the  London  solicitors  to  whom 
Lord  Bantholme  had  referred  him  and  had  received  a 
satisfactory  response. 

It  was  a  very  noble  letter.  Belinda  wept  tears  of  joy 
and  appreciation  over  it  when  Lord  Bantholme  showed 
it  to  her  later  by  way  of  credentials.  Reduced  to  essen- 
tials the  five  sheets  constituted  a  parental  blessing  and, 


THE  CAREWE  PARTY  DODGES  SIGHTS    199 

having  grasped  the  vital  fact,  the  Earl  sent  for  a  Bradshaw 
and  ordered  his  trunk  packed. 

But  here  the  Fates  interposed  to  prevent  the  course  of 
true  love  from  running  smooth  and  upsetting  well-estab- 
lished tradition.  Lord  Bantholme  came  down  with  the 
measles. 

The  situation  was  a  trying  one  for  a  belted  Earl  and 
a  lover.  Even  the  most  interesting  and  fatal  of  diseases 
would  have  been  inopportune.  Measles  was  humiliating. 
No  man  could  be  expected  to  write  to  the  lady  of  his  heart 
and  tell  her  that  he  was  kept  from  her  side  by  measles. 

The  Earl  wrote  of  illness.  He  didn't  go  into  particu- 
lars but  he  hinted  darkly  at  complications  and  gave  the 
impression  that  his  case  was  an  unusual  and  alarming 
one,  though  he  hoped  to  avoid  serious  trouble. 

The  letter  overtook  the  Carewe  party  at  Heidelberg, 
where  they  were  resting  after  a  kinetoscope  view  of  Holland 
and  a  hot  and  wearisome  journey  down  the  Rhine. 

Laura  May  promptly  lost  her  appetite  and  her  interest 
in  scarred  students  and  made  havoc  of  hotel  stationery, 
Mr.  Perkins  was  deeply  interested  and  hinted  darkly  at 
hereditary  heart  trouble. 

"  His  father  died  of  angina  pectoris,"  he  said  gloomily. 
"  These  old  families  you  know.  Run  down.  Run  down." 

But  then  Mr.  Perkins  had  beep  in  pessimistic  mood 
ever  since  leaving  England.  He  was  convinced  that 
Holland  was  too  damp  to  be  healthful,  he  was  disappointed 


200  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

in  Cologne  Cathedral,  he  disapproved  of  the  Rhine,  he 
resented  the  fact  that  neither  Dutch  nor  Germans  could 
talk  English. 

"If  they  even  knew  Latin!"  he  said  with  profound 
disgust,  after  a  fruitless  effort  to  buy  pennyroyal  from  a 
druggist  who  expressed  his  despair  in  German,  French 
and  Italian  and  looked  on  with  alarm  while  the  American 
went  through  a  pantomime  of  buzzing  and  biting  like  a 
mosquito. 

Mrs.  Bagby,  too,  objected  to  the  gross  stupidity  of  per- 
sons who  did  not  speak  English.  She  even  regarded  them 
with  a  certain  suspicion  and  could  not  rid  herself  of  a 
fixed  idea  that  stubbornness,  not  ignorance,  was  at  the 
bottom  of  the  offender's  behaviour  and  that  if  she  talked 
English  loud  enough  and  insistently  enough,  they  would 
understand. 

"Don't  you  bother,  Miss  Carewe,"  she  would  say 
cheerfully,  if  Belinda  offered  assistance.  "  They've  got  to 
learn  English  some  time  and  they  may  as  well  begin 
right  now." 

The  rest  of  the  party  got  along,  after  a  fashion,  Belinda 
and  Courtney  speaking  something  approaching  German, 
the  others  mixing  English,  French  and  dumb  show,  but 
nobody  was  quite  happy. 

An  occasional  Gernian  officer  in  all  his  gorgeousness 
roused  Laura  May  from  sentimental  reverie  and  moved 
Amelia  to  excitement.  The  Zoo  at  Frankfort  fulfilled 


THE  CAREWE  PARTY  DODGES  SIGHTS    201 

Mrs.  Bagby's  wildest  hopes;  but  aside  from  these  breaks 
in  the  dullness  art  and  nature  palled  upon  the  travellers 
and  the  young  woman  who  was  conducting  them  felt 
as  apologetic  as  though  personally  responsible  for  the 
Rhine,  the  heat,  the  language  and  the  German  cooking. 

Things  grew  worse  as  the  trip  progressed.  Mr.  Per- 
kins insisted  upon  visiting  Homburg.  A  physician  in 
Cincinnati  had  once  told  him  that  Homburg  was  the  place 
of  places  for  his  cure  and  having  come  within  a  few  hours' 
ride  of  the  Mecca  it  seemed  flying  in  the  face  of  Provi- 
dence to  pass  the  heaven-sent  opportunity  by.  Miss 
Carewe  pointed  out  that  as  one  day  was  all  they  could 
possibly  give  to  the  health  resort,  a  thorough  cure  was 
hardly  to  be  expected;  but  she  bought  tickets  for  Hom- 
burg. Anything  to  amuse  the  disgruntled.  Feeding 
them  had  ceased  to  be  a  resource  in  Germany. 

They  arrived  in  Homburg  at  night.  The  next  morning, 
Mr.  Perkins  arose  early  and  went  forth.  He  had  only 
one  day  and  he  proposed  to  do  all  that  was  humanly 
possible  toward  making  himself  a  well  man.  Unluckily 
he  had  a  variety  of  interesting  maladies  and  there  was  a 
choice  assortment  of  springs.  There  was  not  time  for 
looking  up  a  doctor  and  leaning  upon  diagnosis  and 
prescription,  but  there  was  one  infallible  road  to  certainty. 
He  drank  copiously  at  all  the  springs.  Then  he  went 
back  to  the  hotel  for  breakfast,  but  breakfast  did  not 
appeal  to  him.  At  ten  o'clock  Miss  Carewe  sent  for  a 


202  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

doctor  and  the  party  spent  three  days  in  Homburg  waiting 
until  the  victim  of  over-zealousness  should  be  well  enough 
to  travel. 

That  episode  gave  Germany  her  coup  de  grace. 

The  travellers  fled  across  the  border  into  Switzerland, 
but  Switzerland  swarmed  with  tourists.  Short  of  climb- 
ing the  Dent  de  Midi  and  roosting  on  top  of  it,  there  was 
no  way  of  escaping  the  horde.  There  were  difficulties 
about  rooms,  about  carriages,  about  meals.  No  ruins 
for  the  archaeologist,  no  zoos  for  the  lover  of  camels  and 
pelicans,  no  picturesque  soldiers,  no  stirring  ballads,  no 
romantic  history! 

"Nothing  but  nature!"  groaned  Amelia.  "I  don't 
mind  nature  if  I'm  doing  something  interesting  in  it,  but 
I'm  not  crazy  about  plain  mountains." 

Belinda  apologized  for  the  plainness  of  the  Jungfrau 
and  Mt.  Blanc. 

She  loved  Switzerland  herself,  but  not  in  the  company 
of  the  blind;  and  when  she  had  soothed,  and  amused 
and  propitiated  until  her  patience  was  in  tatters  and  her 
nerves  worn  to  fiddle-strings,  she  would  turn  her  back 
upon  duty  and  wander  off  alone  to  invite  her  soul.  Even 
if  her  soul  tarried  she  was  seldom  left  alone.  Courtney 
had  a  surprising  way  of  meeting  her  whenever  she  turned 
a  corner  and  after  a  time  or  two,  she  resigned  herself  to 
the  encounters.  She  even  learned  to  look  forward  to 
the  corners.  It  was  reassuring  to  find  that  there  was 


THE  CAREWE  PARTY  DODGES  SIGHTS  203 
actually  a  man  who  could  get  up  to  see  the  miracle  of  a 
mountain  dawn,  who  loved  flower-strewn  mountain 
meadows  and  could  be  silent  while  the  sun  dropped 
behind  peaks  of  rose  and  gold,  and  purple  twilight  crept 
up  from  green  valleys  to  eternal  snows. 

Courtney  himself  was  surprised  to  find  how  much 
emotion  he  could  crowd  into  an  hour  of  communion  with 
Nature  and  Belinda.  In  just  what  proportions  the  two 
contributed  to  the  rapture  and  the  dream,  he  did  not  attempt 
to  decide,  but  he  had  a  sneaking  suspicion  that  he  might 
find  broad  noonday  in  Hoboken  an  emotional  experience 
if  Belinda  were  by  his  side  and  that  solar  phenomena  and 
Swiss  scenery  were  in  line  with  gilding  refined  gold  and 
painting  the  lily. 

It  was  to  Interlaken  that  the  letter  came,  turning  Miss 
Barnes's  schedule  topsy  turvy  and  transforming  the  resig- 
nation with  which  a  majority  of  the  personally  conducted 
had  been  facing  a  tour  through  Northern  Italy,  to  enthusi- 
asm over  la  belle  France. 

Lord  Bantholme  wrote  that  he  had  escaped  from  the 
jaws  of  death  and  considered  the  occasion  one  for  rejoicing 
and  celebration,  but  that  nine  was  in  his  opinion  the 
ideal  number  for  a  celebrating  party,  and  since  he  provi- 
dentially knew  a  pilgrim  band  numbering  eight,  he 
intended  to  join  it  forthwith,  if  not  sooner. 

But  —  and  here  Belinda  to  whom  the  letter  was 
addressed  and  who  was  reading  snatches  from  it  aloud 


804  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

at  the  breakfast  table,  opened  wide  eyes  and  read  on 
silently  with  a  pucker  between  her  brows,  while  the 
others  waited  with  varying  degrees  of  curiosity.  When 
she  looked  up,  she  met  seven  pairs  of  eyes  and  smiled 
doubtfully. 

"  He  has  a  plan,"  she  began. 

"He  always  has  heavenly  plans,"  interpolated  Amelia. 

"Well,  I  don't  know  that  you'll  like  this  one.  I'm 
quite  sure  some  of  you  wouldn't.  I  think  we  won't 
consider  it." 

Murmurs  of  protest  rose  from  the  two  girls. 

Belinda  looked  at  Mr.  Perkins.  The  discontented 
expression  which  had  hovered  over  his  face  for  the  past 
few  weeks  had  relaxed  into  something  approaching  genial 
interest. 

"  A  very  superior  young  man,"  he  pronounced  blandly. 
"  Let  us  hear  what  he  suggests,  Miss  Carewe." 

Belinda  took  up  the  reading  where  she  had  left 
off. 

"But,"  Lord  Bantholme  had  written,  "why,  oh 
why,  dear  lady,  are  you  obsessed  with  a  desire  for  Italy, 
in  August?  The  Italian  lakes  wouldn't  be  so  bad, 
although  they  are  hot  and  slow  —  mortally  slow;  but 
Venice,  Florence,  Pisa!  Italian  railway  carriages,  heat, 
fleas,  smells!  Don't.  Don't  The  leaning  Tower  isn't 
worth  it. 

"  They  say  the  weather  down  there  is  even  more  beastly 


THE  CAREWE  PARTY  DODGES  SIGHTS    205 

hot  than  usual  this  year.  We're  over-warm  even  in 
England. 

"Now  there's  just  one  way  to  keep  cool.  That's  to 
motor.  It  has  gondola  riding  looking  torrid. 

"  And  motoring  in  France  is  the  real  thing. 

"  Here's  what  I  want  you  all  to  do.  Come  and  help  me 
celebrate.  Give  up  your  bally  old  Titians  and  Giottos 
and  Baptisterys  and  come  motoring  with  me  down  along 
the  Loire  and  up  through  Brittany.  I'll  meet  you  at 
Orleans  next  week  and  I'll  promise  to  have  you  in  Paris 
on  schedule  time.  You'll  be  my  guests  for  the  trip,  and 
if  I  don't  give  you  a  good  time  I'll  drink  my  own  petrol. 

"Now  don't  say  'Impossible.'  Think  it  over.  The 
chateau  country  is  the  original  motor  paradise.  It's 
full  up  with  ruins  and  romance  and  good  food.  If  Mrs. 
Bagby  needs  a  camel  to  make  her  happy,  I'll  take  one 
along.  Brittany  will  be  cool  and  just  mention  the  men- 
hirs of  Carnac  to  Mr.  Perkins,  will  you?  He'll  know 
that  archaeologists  come  from  the  ends  of  the  earth  to 
see  them.  Telegraph  me  when  you  can  reach  Orleans. 
Don't  disappoint  me.  The  doctor  tells  me  I'm  not 
strong  enough  to  survive  a  relapse." 

Belinda  finished  the  letter,  folded  it,  and  put  it  in  her 
pocket. 

"Of  course,  you  wouldn't  want  to  miss  Italy,"  she 
said.  "  But  it  is  very  friendly  of  him." 

A  chorus  of  comment  drowned  her  voice. 


206  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

Everybody  was  talking  at  once  save  Laura  May,  and 
she  was  looking  volumes. 

From  the  babel,  the  astonished  conductor  of  the  party 
managed  to  glean  an  occasional  stray  and  illuminating 
phrase.  Mrs.  Nicholson  was  unalterably  opposed  to 
fleas.  Miss  Perkins  had  suffered  enough  from  heat. 
She  had  been  led  to  believe  that  Europe  was  cool.  Mrs. 
Bagby  had  seen  her  last  St.  Sebastian.  Picture  galleries 
should  know  her  no  more.  Mr.  Perkins  felt  that  short 
of  Rome,  which  was  an  impossibility  in  summer,  Italy 
had  nothing  old  enough  to  offer  him,  and  was  convinced 
that  Venice  must  be  malarial.  Courtney  sang  the  praises 
of  the  table  in  Touraine. 

Amelia  announced  vehemently  that  nothing  but  the 
smell  of  gasoline  could  reconcile  her  to  Nature. 

"  You'd  all  like  to  accept  the  invitation  ?  " 

Miss  Carewe's  tone  was  incredulous.  In  her  heart 
she  felt  that  the  thing  was  too  good  to  be  true;  but  if  the 
good  fortune  did  materialize  it  must  be  the  travellers 
themselves  who  decreed  the  change  of  plans. 

They  voted  for  the  motor  trip  as  one  man,  and  Belinda 
telegraphed  to  Lord  Bantholme: 

"Every  one  delighted.     Orleans  Wednesday  at  six." 

Fortified  by  lively  anticipation  the  party  accepted 
Chamonix  and  Geneva  with  tolerant  approval. 

"Switzerland  isn't  so  bad,  when  you  are  going  away 
from  it,"  Amelia  admitted. 


i  a 


The  chateau  country  is  the  original  motor  Paradise 


THE  CAREWE  PARTY  DODGES  SIGHTS    207 

"I'll  miss  the  honey  for  breakfast  and  if  anybody 
wanted  to  climb  mountains,  I  suppose  it  would  really  be 
a  lovely  place." 

The  travellers  arrived  in  Orleans  hot,  tired,  dusty,  but 
amiable.  After  one  has  reached  a  certain  stage  in  sight- 
seeing there  is  something  distinctly  exhilarating  about 
leaving  undone  the  things  one  ought  to  have  done;  and 
running  away  from  the  Uffizi  and  Pitti  galleries  together 
had  brought  about  among  the  members  of  the  oddly 
assorted  party  an  esprit  de  corps  lacking  before.  No  one 
could  claim  superiority.  Each  knew  the  other's  guilty 
secret.  They  had  dodged  156  pages  of  sights,  mostly 
starred ,  and  they  were  shamelessly  glad  of  it. 

"We  don't  really  have  to  see  the  chateaux,  do  we?" 
Amelia  asked  as  the  Earl  tucked  her  into  one  of  the 
cars. 

"  Give  me  the  word  and  I'll  go  by  them  all  so  fast  you 
won't  see  anything  but  gray  streaks,"  Lord  Bantholme 
assured  her. 

"  Oh,  if  we  don't  have  to  see  them  I  don't  mind  look- 
ing at  them.  Mrs.  Bagby  got  a  book  about  them  in 
Geneva  and  Laura  May  read  some  of  it.  She  says  they 
sound  rather  good  —  murders  and  duels  and  dungeons 
and  love  affairs  and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  She  thinks  a 
lot  of  the  most  interesting  part  isn't  very  proper,  though." 

Laura  May  blushed. 

"  But  then  French  history  isn't  proper.     You  know  it 


208  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

isn't,  Miss  Carewe.  You  couldn't  even  teach  it  so  it 
was  proper  without  leaving  out  so  much  of  it  that  it  didn't 
make  sense  at  all.  Don't  you  remember  Mary  Voght's 
mother  was  perfectly  horrified  because  Mary  came  home 
and  talked  about  Diane  de  Poitiers?  She  said  Diane 
was  a  very  improper  person  and  she  didn't  send  her 
daughter  to  a  first-class  private  school  at  $1,500  a  year 
to  have  her  mind  corrupted." 

It  was  Belinda's  turn  to  blush  now. 

"But,  my  dear,  "  she  began. 

"Oh,  you  did  leave  out  every  single  bit  of  the  interesting 
parts,  but  there  she  was,  right  in  the  history  book,  and  of 
course  we  all  went  and  looked  her  up  in  the  library. 
Whenever  you  skipped  anybody  in  French  history  we  knew 
it  would  be  worth  while  looking  her  up." 

"I'm  afraid  you'll  have  to  meet  the  fair  Diane  again," 
said  Lord  Bantholme.  "  She  rather  permeates  Blois  and 
Chenonceaux." 

"Oh,  well,  "  Amelia  had  the  reckless  air  of  one  who 
tosses  his  cap  over  the  windmill.  "History's  different 
anyway.  Everybody's  been  dead  so  long  that  things 
aren't  scandal  any  more  and  you  don't  bother  about  the 
people's  morals.  You  know  you  can't  join  a  woman's 
club  and  do  anything  about  them,  so  what's  the  use  of 
feeling  responsible?" 

A  night's  rest,  a  morning's  glimpse  of  Orleans,  and 
then  the  open  road  —  the  wonderful  road,  poplar-fringed, 


THE  CAREWE  PARTY  DODGES  SIGHTS    209 

river-bordered,  rolling  itself  up  like  a  straight  white 
ribbon  before  the  flying  car. 

"  No  speed  limit,  no  bad  bits,  no  police  traps/'  chortled 
Lord  Bantholme.  His  goggled  face  with  its  broad,  spread- 
ing smile  was  that  of  an  ecstatic  demon. 

"But  we  won't  see  anything,"  gasped  Laura  May, 
holding  on  her  hat  with  both  hands. 

"I'll  drive  more  slowly  after  this,  but  I've  got  to  let 
myself  out  some  way  this  morning  or  explode.  I'm  over- 
charged. I  can  feel  the  happiness  sizzling.  And  then 
I  want  to  get  to  Blois.  I'm  going  to  tell  you  something 
in  Blois  —  and  ask  you  something." 

She  made  no  more  protests  against  the  speed. 

That  evening  on  the  hotel  balcony,  he  told  her  —  and 
asked  her.  It  was  the  chaperon  herself  who  had  lured 
the  rest  of  the  party  out  for  an  after-dinner  walk  and  left 
the  two  there  alone  with  the  starlight  and  the  river  and 
the  climbing  roses,  and,  when  Mr.  Perkins  firmly  refused 
to  walk  any  longer,  it  was  the  chaperon  who  went  to  the 
long  French  window  opening  on  the  balcony  and  called 
once,  twice,  three  times  before  any  one  heard  her. 

Then  Laura  May  answered,  and  as  Belinda  stepped 
out  into  the  rose-scented  gloom,  the  girl  came  to  meet 
her,  with  Bantholme  close  behind. 

"It's  all  right,  Miss  Carewe,"  the  man  said  happily, 
but  the  girl  said  never  a  word.  She  only  put  her  arms 
around  Belinda  and  cried  a  little  for  sheer  heartfulness 


210  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

and  then  laughed  a  little  because  she  had  cried  and  looked 
up  at  Bantholme  with  such  wet  eyes  and  such  smiling  lips 
that  he  ignored  the  chaperon's  presence  and  kissed  both 
the  eyes  and  lips.  Not  content  with  that  he  kissed  the 
chaperon,  who  utterly  failed  to  resent  the  performance. 

When  a  twenty-four-year  old  lover  has  just  proposed 
and  been  accepted  on  a  rose-trellised  balcony  in  Touraine 
sanity  is  not  expected  of  him. 

"  Of  course,  it's  all  very  well  for  you,"  Amelia  said  to 
the  happy  man  later  in  the  evening,  "  but  being  in  love 
certainly  does  spoil  a  girl  for  a  chum.  Laura  May's 
been  no  fun  at  all  since  we  left  England.  She's  simply 
mooned  about  without  you  and  I  suppose  now  she'll 
moon  worse  than  ever  with  you,  but  I  must  say  I  don't 
blame  her." 

"Thank  you,"  said  the  Earl  humbly. 

The  chateau  was  quite  wasted  upon  the  lovers.  They 
viewed  the  cabinet  in  which  the  Due  de  Guise  made  his 
plucky,  hopeless  fight  against  his  assassins,  the  high 
window  from  which  Marie  de  Medici  scrambled  down 
a  rope  ladder  to  freedom  and  the  room  in  which  the 
infamous  Catherine  de  Medici  drew  her  la^t  poisonous 
breath,  all  with  the  same  beaming  and  blissful  smiles, 
and  they  listened  to  the  gloomy,  dramatic  tales  of  the 
guide  as  though  he  had  been  repeating  rondeaux  and 
villanelles. 

What  were  "old,  unhappy,  far-off  things"  to  them? 


THE  CAREWE  PARTY  DODGES  SIGHTS   211 

What  place  had  murder  and  poison  and  intrigue  in  their 
new  heaven  and  new  earth?  If  the  guide  had  dealt 
in  love  stories,  perhaps  they  might  have  lent  an  ear,  but 
the  love  stories  of  Blois  have  faded  while  the  tragedies 
endure;  and,  though  gay  beauties  and  brave  gallants 
have  sighed  and  vowed  in  every  gloomy  room  and  cor- 
ridor of  the  famous  old  chateau,  the  memory  of  their 
loves  has  been  washed  out  with  blood.  Perhaps  it  is  just 
as  well  for  the  American  Young  Person  on  tour  that 
things  are  as  they  are.  They  were  frail  as  they  were 
fair,  those  flowers  of  old  France,  and  the  echoes  of 
their  amours  would  doubtless  be  less  instructive  and 
edifying  than  the  stories  of  battle,  murder,  and  sudden 
death. 

But  if  Laura  May  and  her  lover  waded  through  seas 
of  gore  unmoved,  Amelia's  thrills  restored  an  average. 
She  revelled  in  horrors  and  made  copious  notes  of  things 
to  "lookup." 

"Give  me  French  history!"  she  announced  with 
fervour  as  the  party  waited  in  the  little  garden  where  they 
were  to  lunch.  "There  was  always  something  doing  in 
France.  I'd  hate  to  live  in  a  country  where  nothing  had 
ever  happened  except  William  Tell." 

"Things  certainly  did  happen,  over  there."  Belinda 
was  looking  dreamily  out  between  the  acacias  to  where 
the  great  fortress  climbed  upward  from  its  ancient  moat 
and  her  eyes  were  seeing  ghosts  of  dead  ladies  gone  with 


212  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

"the  snows  of  yesteryear"  —broken-hearted  Madame 
Valentine,  gentle  Claude  of  France,  fat-cheeked,  evil- 
eyed  Catherine,  la  Reine  Margot  with  her  pale  face  and 
midnight  hair,  soft-hearted  Louise  de  la  Valliere  and 
laughing  Aure  de  Montalais.  All  the  intriguing,  light, 
loving  beauties  of  the  Florentine's  famous  "  flying  squad- 
ron" leaned  from  the  little  balconies  of  the  wonderful 
spiral  stairway,  fluttered  along  the  terraces,  peered  from 
the  narrow  windows ;  and  she  recognized  each  one,  though 
it  would  have  been  hard  for  her  to  tell  where  her  history 
ended  and  her  Dumas  began. 

"If  we  could  invite  d'Artagnan  over  to  luncheon," 
Courtney  said  suddenly,  his  thought  rhyming  with 
hers.  "  And  the  Montalais,  perhaps,  but  not  la  Valliere. 
She  would  weep  and  faint." 

"Dear  dead  women  —  with  such  hair,  too, 
Used  to  fall  and  brush  their  bosoms," 

Belinda  quoted  softly,  but  Amelia  caught  the  words. 

"Well,  if  you're  going  to  be  sentimental  too,"  she 
began  in  accents  of  profound  disgust;  but  at  that  moment 
a  rosy-cheeked,  white- aproned  boy  sat  the  hors  d'oeuvres 
on  the  table,  and  she  forgot  her  grievance. 

That  was  a  luncheon  calculated  to  set  one  at  peace 
with  all  the  world. 

Courtney  had  ordered  it  in  honour  of  the  engagement, 
announced  the  night  before,  and  had  led  the  way  up  the 


THE  CAREWE  PARTY  DODGES  SIGHTS   213 

narrow,  mounting  streets  of  the  marvellous  old  town  to 
a  little  inn,  perched  high  on  the  hillside  among  thick  clus- 
tering trees. 

"It's  astonishing  how  you  find  your  way  around,  Mr. 
Courtney,"  Mr.  Perkins  said  as  they  climbed  a  flight  of 
steps  cut  in  the  rock  and  came  out  at  the  side  gate  of  the 
inn  garden,  a  quiet,  sun-warmed,  flower-sweet  nook, 
overlooking  the  tumbled  picturesque  town  and  the  gleam- 
ing river  beyond. 

"  Oh,  I've  been  here  before,"  Courtney  admitted.  What 
was  the  use  denying  it  when  Fra^ois  was  sure  to  greet 
him  with  respectful  camaraderie  and  Madame  would 
probably  call  him  "mon  enfant?" 

Belinda  looked  at  him  with  reflective  eyes.  He  had 
evidently  covered  much  ground  and  accumulated  a  sur- 
prising amount  of  experience  in  that  one  brief  business 
trip.  They  had  yet  to  reach  a  place  with  which  he  was 
not  on  terms  of  intimacy. 

Fran9ois'  greeting  was  a  heart-warming  thing.  He 
had  put  on  a  long  gray  frock  coat  over  his  white  duck 
trousers  to  do  his  guests  honour,  indicating  the  festive 
nature  of  the  occasion  by  a  flaring,  bright  red  tie,  and 
sympathy  with  young  love  oozed  from  him  at  the  pores. 
His  face  shone,  his  voice  caressed.  He  walked  jauntily, 
recalling  the  day  when  he,  too,  had  been  an  accepted 
lover. 

*'I  had  but  twenty  years,  Monsieur,"  he  explained  to 


214  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

Lord  Bantholme,  "  and  it  was  necessary  that  one  should 
wait,  but  she  waited  well,  my  little  Marie.  She  is  of  a 
character,  of  a  firmness.  But  you  must  see  her." 

"Ohe!  Marie!"  he  called;  and  Madame  came  out 
through  a  door  beyond  which  one  caught  gleams  of  shining 
copper  and  saw  the  scurrying  figure  of  the  white-aproned 
boy. 

She,  too,  was  smiling,  but  with  a  calmness  in  contrast 
with  her  husband's  exuberance,  and  she  came  without 
haste,  serene,  dignified,  well-poised,  a  hint  of  pride  in  her 
handsome,  clear-cut  face. 

Typical  Tourangelle  from  head  to  foot,  from  snowy, 
embroidered  cap  to  square-toed  shoe  was  Madame  Marie. 
Town  parodies  of  Paris  modes  had  passed  her  by,  left 
her  unspoiled. 

"See  you,  ma  mie,  it  is  M'sieu  Courtney  and  the  so 
happy  fiance's,"  Fra^ois  announced. 

She  welcomed  Courtney  in  French  and  the  kindliness 
in  her  eyes  glowed  more  warmly  as  she  looked  at  Laura 
May's  pretty,  blushing  face. 

"  It  is  a  great  honour  our  little  garden  comes  to  receive, 
Mademoiselle,"  she  said  in  careful,  slow-spoken  English, 
"with  the  flowers  and  the  sunshine  and  the  songs  of  the 
birds  it  has  now  the  happy  lovers.  It  is  then  a  Paradise 
complete,  this  garden  of  ours." 

"  But  it  was  not  necessary  that  the  lovers  should  have 
youth,  ma  mie,"  Fra^ois'  tone  was  reproachful.  "  Already 


THE  CAREWE  PARTY  DODGES  SIGHTS    215 

I  had  found  that  for  me  it  had  the  air  of  Paradise,  this 
garden." 

She  eyed  him  tolerantly. 

"  He  is  Parisian,  my  Franfois,"  she  explained  to  the  com- 
pany by  way  of  tranquil  apology  for  his  burst  of  sentiment. 

"  And  you,  Madame  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Bagby. 

"Moi,  je  suis  Tourangelle!"  Mere  English  could  not 
express  the  pride  of  it. 

"  Yes,  Madame,  I  am  of  the  country,  of  the  soil  —  born 
upon  the  land  of  my  father.  It  is  so  with  us,  nous  autres 
Tourangelles.  In  Touraine  each  owns  the  farm  on  which 
he  lives  and  from  which  he  feeds  his  family.  Oh,  it  need 
not  be  large  —  an  acre,  two  acres  —  what  the  good  Lord 
has  given  —  and  the  good  man  has  worked  for,  bien 
cntendu,  but,  it  is  of  the  family.  It  is  for  that 
that  in  Touraine  the  peasant  walks  with  the  head  high 
and  the  shoulders  straight.  Where  one  owns  the  land, 
there  is  pride,  see  you;  and  where  the  land  gives  freely 
as  in  Touraine,  there  is  also  the  comfort. 

"  With  economies,  the  sous  mount  until  there  is  a  dot 
for  the  daughter  and  one  leaves  something  behind  when 
the  candles  are  lighted  at  one's  head  and  feet." 

"  But  you  live  in  the  town  ?"  Mrs.  Bagby  had  loosened 
her  bonnet  strings  and  seated  herself  comfortably  beside 
Madame  Marie  on  a  garden  bench.  She  was  not  haunted 
by  dead  queens,  but  here  was  something  she  could  under- 
stand. There  was  a  woman  after  her  own  heart,  a  woman 


216  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

who  knew  the  secrets  of  French  country  life  and  who, 
providentially,  could  speak  English. 

Madame  Marie  shrugged  her  shoulders,  looked  down 
over  the  town  with  a  disdainful  curl  of  the  lip  and  then 
allowed  her  eyes  to  wander  to  her  gallant  husband. 

"As  Madame  sees.  Yes.  When  one  marries,  one 
departs  perhaps  from  the  ways  of  one's  own.  My  husband 
has  come  to  Touraine,  a  boy,  but  before,  he  had  made 
the  voyages.  That  changes  all,  the  voyage.  Impossible 
to  be  content  even  in  the  household  of  M'sieu  le  Comte, 
at  Tours,  where  he  has  become  chef.  He  has  gone  to 
Paris,  to  London.  To  cook  a  chicken  seems  to  him 
better  than  to  raise  it  for  market.  Me,  I  am  of  altogether 
another  advice  on  this  subject  of  the  chicken  —  but  what 
will  you?  One  has  the  heart  touched,  one  says  adieu 
to  the  home,  one  follows  into  the  world.  Grace  a  Dieu, 
it  is  not  far  to  follow  for  me.  One  makes  money  in  cook- 
ing the  chickens  for  Englishmen,  it  appears.  Franfois 
is  returned  with  a  round  sum.  We  marry.  We  buy  this 
little  place.  It's  not  much  but,  one  does  not  sleep 
under  the  roof  of  another  and  one  gains  always.  Even 
in  Paris  one  knows  of  the  chickens  of  Fran9ois;  and  the 
world  comes  from  England;  from  America.  We  had 
once  a  young  M'sieu  of  New  York,  an  artist.  He  has 
come  for  a  luncheon  and  he  has  rested  with  us  for  a  year. 
It  is  from  him  that  I  have  learned  the  English.  Poor 
gar9on,he  had  nothing  else  with  which  to  pay  —  but  since 


THE  CAREWE  PARTY  DODGES  SIGHTS    217 

then  he  has  sent  the  money  also  —  and  the  friends.     It  was 
through  him  that  M'sieu  Courtney  is  first  come  to  us." 

"You  wear  a  most  beautiful  cap."  Mrs.  Bagby  eyed 
the  snowy  linen  covetously. 

Madame  Marie  laughed. 

"Oh,  me,  as  I  have  said,  I  am  of  the  soil.  There  are 
those  in  Touraine  now,  who  buy  in  the  towns  the  things 
absurd  that  one  makes  in  Paris  for  the  head  —  but  for 
me,  I  wear  always  the  costume  du  pays." 

It  was  just  here  that  the  boy  with  the  hors  d'oeuvres 
created  a  diversion  and  checked  Amelia's  plaint.  He 
checked,  too,  the  torrent  of  questions  hovering  on  Mrs 
Bagby's  lips.  Here  was  a  chance  to  learn  how  one  culti- 
vated the  vineyards  that  garlanded  all  the  sun-soaked 
valley  of  the  Loire,  to  find  out  why  the  peaches  and  plums 
were  so  big  and  so  cheap,  to  inquire  how  the  poultry, 
down  in  the  busy  market  place,  by  the  river,  was  fattened 
to  such  amazing  size  —  but  all  that  could  wait.  Mrs. 
Bagby,  like  Amelia,  was  hungry. 

Fran9ois  disappeared  into  the  copper-hung  kitchen, 
where  he  straightway  began  to  perform  miracles,  appear- 
ing at  intervals  to  hover  about  the  table  and  see  for  himself 
whether  his  efforts  were  being  properly  appreciated.  He 
had  taken  off  his  frock  coat  now,  and  was  in  apron  and  cap, 
but  his  smile  and  his  jauntiness  were  unimpaired,  and 
as  he  watched  the  prowess  of  the  nine  at  table,  he 
radiated  satisfaction. 


218  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

"  M'sieu  has  always  the  appetite,"  he  said  benevolently, 
as  he  served  Lord  Bantholme  with  more  langouste. 
"It  is  of  an  absurdity  that  idea  that  a  lover  does  not 
eat.  Who  should  have  the  good  appetite  if  not  he? 
If  the  loved  one  is  unkind  —  I  do  not  say  then  - 
though  still  one  might  console  oneself  for  much  with 
my  langouste,  so  it  seems;  but  if  all  goes  well,  I  find 
that  then  one  has  the  stomach  enlarged  as  is  the  heart." 

He  was  back  again  with  the  artichokes. 

"A  specialite  de  la  maison,"  he  announced,  rubbing 
his  hands  together  and  beaming  anticipation.  "You  go 
to  enjoy  this,  I  am  sure.  You  have  heard  of  the  great 
M'sieu  Dumas  ?  " 

He  was  speaking  at  Belinda  and  she  admitted  that  she 
had  heard  of  Dumas. 

"  He  has  written  the  novels  superb,  is  it  not  ?  You  have 
read  of  our  chateau  here,  in  the  Vicomte  de  Bragelonne  ? 
Down  there,  at  the  left  —  the  red  roof,  see  you,  behind 
the  tower,  it  is  there  that  the  unhappy  Charles  of  England 
lodged.  Me,  I  hold  greatly  to  the  novels  of  M'sieu 
Dumas.  But  you  have  perhaps  not  read  his  cook  book  ?  " 

Belinda  confessed  that  she  had  not. 

"Ah,  there  is  a  truly  great  work.     He  was  a  cook  by 

the  Grace  of  God,  that  brave  man  —  an  amateur,  but 

an  amateur  inspired.     These  artichokes  are  after  a  recipe 

of  his.     I  have  made  a  succes  fou  with  them  in  London." 

"  You  cooked  in  London ! " 


THE  CAREWE  PARTY  DODGES  SIGHTS    219 

"  But  yes,  Mademoiselle,  at  Claridge's.  One  gained  well 
there,  but  what  will  you !  England  —  it  is  ilways  a  triste 
exile.  Pardon,  Milord.  I  would  say  it  is  «  j  exile  for  the 
Frenchman.  And  then  Marie  waited  here,  and  I  remem- 
bered always  the  vineyards  and  the  gardens  and  the  sun- 
shine and  the  river.  Touraine  rests  in  the  heart,  see  you, 
Mademoiselle.  To  be  one's  own  master  is  good,  to  own 
one's  little  inn,  to  sit  in  one's  garden  and  watch  the  river,  to 
be  cliez  soi  —  at  home  —  that  goes  well  when  one  grows 
gray.  It  is  a  good  life  here  on  the  hillside,  Mademoiselle. 

"  Personne  wishes  more  of  the  artichokes  ?  I  fly  to  bring 
the  chicken." 

When  luncheon  ended  the  guests  lingered. 

"You  can  leave  me  right  here,"  Belinda  said  with 
decision.  "I've  chosen  the  better  part.  I  shall  sit  in 
this  garden  with  Fra^ois  and  Madame  and  eat  arti- 
chokes until  my  life  ebbs.  There  can't  be  anything 
better.  Why  move  on  ?  " 

"But  if  we  are  going  to  Amboise  this  afternoon?" 
Lord  Bantholme  remonstrated. 

"  Go,  my  child.     Go.     As  for  me,  I  remain." 

But,  after  an  hour  under  the  acacia  trees,  she  allowed 
herself  to  be  persuaded  and  the  travellers  went  their  way 
down  the  steep  street,  turning  often  to  look  back  to  where 
Fran9ois  waved  a  friendly  hand  and  Madame  Marie 
stood  smiling  a  serene  farewell. 

"  If  one  could  only  buy  the  dear  things !  "sighed  Belinda. 


CHAPTER  TWELVE 

A  RENDEZVOUS   IN  TOURAINE 

"TRAVELLING  backward  is  very  confusing,"  said  Amelia. 

Lord  Bantholme's  party  had  retreated  from  the  hot 
dining  room  of  the  hotel  at  Tours  and  were  having  after- 
dinner  coffee  among  the  palms  of  the  pebble-paved  court. 

"  Who's  travelling  backward  ?"  the  Earl  asked  absent- 
mindedly,  his  attention  centered  on  the  red  rose  which 
Laura  May  had  tucked  among  her  black  locks.  He  had 
given  her  that  rose.  Queer  how  different  a  fellow  felt 
about  roses  when  he  was  in  love.  He  had  sent  tons  of 
the  things  in  his  time,  without  getting  stirred  up  over 
anything  about  them  except  the  bill. 

"Why  we  are,"  Amelia  explained.  "Of  course  you 
wouldn't  be  expected  to  notice  it.  You  and  Laura  May 
wouldn't  wake  up  if  you  were  travelling  in  figure  eights, 
but  this  going  backward  upsets  my  impressions  fright- 
fully. Now  there's  the  Due  de  Guise.  I  thought  he  was 
splendid  at  Blois  and  I  was  furious  with  the  men  who 
murdered  him;  and  then  I  went  to  Amboise  to-day  and 
found  out  how  he  had  all  those  poor  Huguenots  stabbed 

220 


A  RENDEZVOUS  IN  TOURAINE  221 

and  hung  and  beheaded,  and  I  decided  that  plain  mur- 
dering was  much  too  good  for  him.  I'm  glad  they  stabbed 
him  as  many  times  as  they  did." 

"It  wasn't  the  same  Guise,  you  know,"  protested  Mr. 
Perkins,  but  Amelia  airily  waved  aside  historic  fact. 

"Oh,  well,  they  were  all  pretty  much  of  a  muchness, 
and  that  Amboise  one  ought  to  have  been  stabbed." 

"He  was  brave,"  objected  Courtney. 

"  Well,  what  if  he  was  ?  Weren't  the  Huguenots  brave 
too?  I  could  just  see  them  going  up  the  scaffold,  one 
after  another,  singing  their  Huguenot  hymn  as  long  as 
there  was  a  single  man  left  to  sing  it.  I'd  have  cried 
over  them  —  if  my  nose  hadn't  been  so  sunburned  I 
didn't  dare." 

"It  always  appealed  to  my  imagination,  too  —  that 
dwindling  volume  of  song  and  then,  at  last,  the  silence," 
Belinda  said  with  a  shadow  in  her  eyes. 

"Yes,  and  that  scar-faced  Guise  gloating  over  it  and 
going  off  to  order  more  Huguenots  hacked  to  pieces 
and  hung  from  his  dining-room  window-bars  while  he 
was  at  breakfast.  Stabbing  that  man  would  have  been 
simply  pampering  him.  He  and  Catherine  de  Medici 
ought  to  have  been  tied  together  and  dropped  into  boiling 
oil." 

"Oh,  Amelia!"  Laura  May  in  her  present  mood  felt 
friendly  even  toward  historic  criminals. 

"Well,  didn't  they  deserve  it?    Think  of  Catherine 


222  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

making  poor  little  Mary  Stuart  and  Francis  go  out  on 
the  balcony  to  watch  the  executions.  Don't  you  know 
how  they  loathed  it?  They  weren't  as  old  as  I  am." 

"And  they  had  been  so  gay  and  happy  when  they  rode 
into  Amboise  for  their  wedding  fetes  just  a  little  while 
before!"  said  Mrs.  Nicholson.  Her  soft  heart  was 
being  sadly  harrowed  by  the  tragedies  of  Touraine. 

"Yes,  that  wedding-bells  idea  was  what  sent  Laura 
May  and  Lord  Bantholme  into  a  trance."  Amelia  spoke 
with  fine  scorn.  "The  guide  happened  to  say  something 
about  the  young  bride  and  the  boy  king  and  all  their 
bridal  procession  riding  in  through  the  first  big  gate,  and 
those  two  silly  things,  over  there,  went  off  and  sat  down 
on  a  bench  in  the  moat  to  think  about  lovers  and  wed- 
dings and  never  did  see  any  more  of  the  chateau." 

"So  much  the  better  for  us." 

The  Earl  was  unashamed. 

"It  gave  all  of  you  the  horrors,  didn't  it  ?" 

"Of  course.  That's  what  we  went  for.  Everybody 
loves  horrors.  I  don't  get  feelings  as  easily  as  I  did  at 
first,  though."  There  was  deep  regret  in  Amelia's  voice. 

"Why,  that  first  week  in  London,  I  could  get  worked 
up  over  almost  anything,  but  now  I've  got  to  have  some- 
thing awfully  tragic.  You  do  get  used  to  blood  stains 
and  places  where  gallows  stood  and  rivers  that  ran  red 
with  blood  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  in  Europe.  I  sup- 
pose that  was  the  way  with  Mary  Stuart.  She  got  so 


A  RENDEZVOUS  IN  TOURAINE  223 

used  to  seeing  men  killed  off  in  swarms  here  in  France 
that  you  can't  wonder  she  didn't  think  much  of  blowing 
up  one  poor  excuse  for  a  man  like  Darnley.  Probably 
she  couldn't  understand  at  all  why  John  Knox  and  the 
other  Scots  fussed  about  such  little  things.  I  never  did 
like  John  Knox  myself.  I  wish  he'd  had  Catherine  de 
Medici  to  deal  with  instead  of  her  daughter-in-law.  He 
wouldn't  have  lasted  two  days.  Didn't  poor  Mary  strike 
the  everlasting  limit  in  mothers-in-law  ?  You  know  she's 
backward,  too  —  Mary,  I  mean.  When  we  got  acquainted 
with  her  in  Edinburgh  she  was  making  things  hum  so 
herself  that  it's  confusing  to  come  down  here  and  find 
her  young  and  timid  and  bullied." 

Amelia  was  chattering  even  more  breathlessly  and  incon- 
sequently  than  usual.  She  seemed  excited  and  restless 
and  her  eyes  wandered  constantly  toward  the  doorway 
through  which  one  could  see  figures  moving  to  and  fro 
in  the  brightly  lighted  office. 

Suddenly  she  stopped  talking  and  became  absorbed 
in  the  motto  which  decorated  the  coffee  pot. 

Two  men  in  motor  coats  and  caps  had  entered  the 
circle  of  light  and  stopped  to  talk  with  the  commission- 
aire. 

"It  is  the  recipe  for  coffee  which  Maitre  Francois 
Rabelais  made,  Mademoiselle,"  explained  the  waiter, 
observing  the  intense  interest  with  which  Amelia  was 
studying  the  inscription  on  the  swelling  side  of  the  pot. 


224  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

The  two  motorists  came  out  into  the  court  and  chose 
a  table.  As  they  took  off  their  caps  and  dust  coats,  a 
chorus  of  recognition  sounded  from  Belinda,  Laura  May 
and  Mrs.  Bagby,  who  sat  facing  the  new  comers.  Amelia, 
apparently  memorizing  the  recipe  of  Maitre  Rabelais, 
looked  up  only  when  she  heard  the  three  voices  exclaim- 
ing. 

"  Count  deBrissac!" 

"Why,  so  it  is,"  she  agreed  with  pleased  surprise. 

The  Count,  too,  was  obviously  surprised.  As  his 
name  echoed  on  the  air,  he  looked  about  him  in  amaze- 
ment, which  changed  to  evident  delight  when  his  glance 
reached  the  little  tables  where  the  Earl's  party  was  seated. 

"Ah!" 

The  exclamation  was  rich  in  flattery;  and,  before  it 
died  away,  he  had  precipitated  himself  across  the  court 
and  was  shaking  hands  all  around,  with  undiscriminating 
fervour. 

"But  you  are  not  then  in  Italy  ?" 

"Evidently  not,  since  you  find  us  here,"  Belinda 
admitted  laughingly. 

"And  I  who  pictured  you  in  Venice,  riding  in  gondolas, 
eating  ices  on  the  piazza,  listening  to  Santa  Lucia!" 

"We  abandoned  our  plans  when  Lord  Bantholme 
invited  us  to  motor  through  Touraine  and  Brittany." 

"But  I,  too,  follow  the  road  along  the  Loire  and 
into  Bretagne.  It  seems  that  my  lucky  star  rides  high 


A  RENDEZVOUS  IN  TOURAINE  225 

in  heaven.  Only  day  before  yesterday,  I  bored  myself 
in  Trouville  when  a  friend  arrived  with  his  car  —  Mon- 
sieur de  Fontanges,  a  connection  of  my  family.  He  had 
urgent  affairs  at  his  chateau  in  Touraine  and  begged  me 
to  go  with  him.  It  was  a  diversion  and  I  love  Touraine; 
so  I  have  come,  we  have  regulated  the  affairs  —  the 
business  as  you  call  it  —  and  now  we  follow  our  whims. 
Is  it  permitted  that  I  present  my  friend  ?  " 

Monsieur  de  Fontanges  was  duly  presented.  He  was 
a  small,  lean,  well-preserved  Frenchman,  with  scanty 
hair  brushed  carefully  forward  over  the  bald  top  of  his 
head,  shrewd  black  eyes  gleaming  behind  his  nose-glasses 
and  a  superb  manner  tempered  by  genial  affability. 

He  was  charmed,  enchanted.  Count  de  Brissac  had 
spoken  often  of  his  American  friends.  He  had  hoped  to 
make  their  acquaintance  later,  in  Paris;  and,  now, 
good  fortune  had  run  to  meet  him. 

"What  a  happy  chance  that  the  necessity  of  consulting 
an  avocat  brought  us  this  evening  to  Tours!"  he  exclaimed 
turning  to  De  Brissac. 

"And  now  that  you  find  your  friends,  I  shall  send  the 
car  to  the  garage.  We  will  spend  the  night  in  the  hotel, 
and,  perhaps,  in  the  morning,  we  might  make  a  little 
party  for  Chenonceaux  or  Loches.  Yes  ?" 

He  beamed  inquiringly  upon  the  listening  group. 
Belinda  turned  toward  Lord  Bantholme. 

"You  are  the  Personal  Conductor  now,  you  know." 


226  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

He  was  not,  like  Monsieur  de  Fontanges,  charmed  or 
enchanted  but  he  was  willing.  In  his  state  of  compre- 
hensive satisfaction  with  the  world,  he  was  inclined  to 
give  even  De  Brissac  the  benefit  of  any  stray  doubt.  The 
man  didn't  seem  to  be  such  a  bad  sort,  and  Laura  May 
had  assured  him  that  the  Frenchman  was  in  love  with 
Miss  Carewe.  Poor  duffer!  He  hadn't  a  ghost  of  a 
show,  with  Courtney  in  the  field.  His  heart  warmed 
to  the  unfortunate  one.  Even  if  a  fellow  had  gone  a  bit 
crooked,  it  was  deucedly  hard  luck  to  be  hopelessly  in 
love  with  the  wrong  girl. 

So  he  endorsed  the  plan  for  the  morrow. 

"You  have  not  yet  been  to  Chenonceaux  ? "  Monsieur 
de  Fontanges  asked.  "No?  I  am  glad.  It  is  beauti- 
ful —  Chenonceaux  —  and  gay.  They  are  all  beautiful, 
these  chateaux  of  Touraine,  but  not  too  gay." 

"They're  giving  me  green  and  yellow  melancholy," 
Belinda  acknowledged,  "but  I  like  it.  There's  such  a 
fine,  full  flavour  of  romance  about  even  the  grewsome 
things." 

"Yes,  and  at  Chenonceaux,  see  you,  it  is  all  romance. 
Diane  held  her  court  of  Venus  there  and  all  the  world 
loved  and  danced  and  sang  and  made  merry.  The  place 
has  always  that  air.  One  finds  laughter  and  kisses  echo- 
ing in  the  air.  At  Loches  there  are  only  curses  and  groans." 

"Me  for  Chenonceaux!"  Lord  Bantholme  voted  with 
emphasis. 


A  RENDEZVOUS  IN  TOURAINE          227 

It  was  later  in  the  evening  that  Monsieur  de  Fontanges 
proposed  an  additional  plan  for  the  next  day. 

"Mori  cher,"  he  said,  laying  his  hand  on  Count  de 
Brissac's  arm,  "if  you  could  but  persuade  your  friends 
to  accept  our  hospitality  at  Monrepos!  I  am  perhaps 
too  new  an  acquaintance  to  presume,  but  if  I  might  be 
allowed  to  offer  luncheon 

The  Count  seized  upon  the  suggestion  eagerly. 

"An  excellent  idea!  The  chateau  is  but  a  little  way 
beyond  Chenonceaux." 

"A  small  place,"  interrupted  his  friend  modestly. 
"But  in  France  we  call  these  little  boxes  also  chateaux." 

"It  is  charming,  your  Monrepos,"  protested  the  Count. 
"A  little  gem,  Mesdames.  You  will  like  it  I  am  sure. 
We  could  lunch  there  more  comfortably  than  at  the 
inn." 

"My  family  is  not  in  residence,  and  there  is  not  an 
establishment.  You  will  have  much  to  pardon,  but  the 
visit  would  so  honour  me,  and  it  may  amuse  you  to  see 
how  one  lives  to-day  on  the  small  estates  of  Touraine." 

"And  he  has  an  angel  in  the  kitchen,  this  fortunate 
man,"  De  Brissac  supplemented.  "Also  a  butler  who 
produces  comforts  as  a  juggler  brings  white  rabbits  from 
a  hat." 

The  picture  was  alluring  and  the  visit  to  Monrepos 
was  added  to  the  programme. 

Then  there  was  a  movement  toward  bed,  an  exchange 


228  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

of  good  nights.  Amelia,  dropping  behind  the  rest  of  the 
party,  found  Count  de  Brissac  beside  her. 

"Always  a  heart  of  gold!"  he  said  softly.  "I  would 
have  been  in  Venice  now,  if  your  message  had  not 
come  to  tell  me  that  your  plans  were  changed.  I 
could  wait  no  longer.  My  tickets  were  bought  —  but 
it  is  simpler,  this  matter  of  Touraine,  and  has  all  the  air 
of  chance.  You  found  my  letter  here?" 

She  nodded.  In  the  weeks  that  had  passed  since  she 
had  said  good-bye  to  him  in  London,  she  had  slipped 
slightly  from  under  the  spell  of  his  eyes,  his  voice,  had 
been  able  to  think  of  him  without  a  fluttering  heart  and 
a  choking  throat;  but  now  that  he  was  with  her,  the  old 
feeling  came  back  with  a  rush  and  she  did  not  dare  trust 
herself  to  speak. 

"You  have  missed  me  a  little!     Yes  ?" 

Women  older  and  more  worldly  wise  than  Amelia  had 
felt  their  defenses  weakening  when  he  spoke  to  them  in 
that  tone,  looked  at  them  as  he  was  looking  at  her,  and 
the  susceptible  little  schoolgirl's  heart  melted  like  wax 
within  her. 

This  was  the  lover  she  had  always  dreamed  of,  when 
she  laid  her  novel  aside  and  gave  herself  up  to  dreams, 
a  lover  handsome,  tall  and  noble,  a  lover  with  eloquent 
dark  eyes  and  a  caressing  voice  and  the  general  air  of  a 
Ouida  hero.  She  had  been  afraid  there  were  no  such 
radiant  beings  outside  the  books.  The  frank,  foolish 


A  RENDEZVOUS  IN  TOURAINE  229 

undergraduates  who  had  showered  her  with  violets  and 
chocolates  had  always  fallen  miserably  short  of  fiction 
standards;  but  here,  at  last,  was  her  ideal. 

"Tell  me,  cherie.  You  have  thought  of  me  sometimes  ? 
You  are  a  little  glad  that  I  have  come  ?" 

She  looked  up  at  him  without  a  word,  but  the  look 
told  him  all  that  was  necessary  for  him  to  know,  and  he 
went  upstairs  with  a  satisfied  smile  on  his  lips. 

"They're  in  your  pocket,  mon  ami,  those  American 
dollars,"  said  De  Fontanges  when  he  and  the  Count  had 
found  their  rooms  and  closed  the  door  behind  them. 

"Already  I  am  spending  the  twenty-five  thousand 
francs  that  you  owe  me  and  will  repay.  Am  I  not  a 
friend  to  cherish,  with  my  sudden  inspirations  about 
parties  for  Chenonceaux  and  luncheons  at  Monrepos?" 

He  seated  himself  on  the  edge  of  his  bed  and  loosened 
his  high  collar. 

"Ah,  that  is  better.  It  is  hot,  this  dear  Touraine, 
and  we  were  so  cool  in  Normandy.  I  would  not  have 
believed  that  I  would  leave  Trouville,  would  miss  the 
grande  semaine  there;  but  you  received  your  letter  from 
the  little  one,  and  immediately  I  had  affairs  in  Touraine. 
Peste!  I  hope  that  they  are  always  at  the  service  of  my 
relatives  —  those  affairs  of  mine.  And  then  there  were 
twenty-five  thousand  francs." 

"You  shall  have  them." 

"Oh,  I  do  not  hurry,  I  do  not  insist;  but  I  admit  that 


230  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

it  has  also  a  personal  interest  for  me,  your  sport  of  heiress 
chasing.  I  am  not  all  altruism.  I  do  not  claim  such 
loftiness  of  soul  —  but  I  find  it  delightful,  this  game. 
Would  one  say  that  we  had  so  carefully  planned  the  ren- 
contre, the  party,  the  luncheon  ?  It  had  all  the  air  of  an 
impromptu,  n'est  ce  pas?" 

He  laughed  —  he  had  always  found  life  amusing,  this 
elderly  man,  who  had  never  allowed  his  conscience  to 
trouble  his  head  or  his  heart,  who  had  much  wit  and  no 
smallest  trace  of  a  scruple  in  his  composition. 

"She  is  pretty,  your  heiress,"  he  went  on  encourag- 
ingly, "  and  foolish.  The  affair  should  be  of  a  perfect 
simplicity.  As  for  me,  my  heart  is  shattered  by  Miss 
Carewe  and  I  shall  be  a  thorn  in  the  side  of  the  disap- 
proving Monsieur  Courtney.  He  does  not  receive  us 
with  open  arms,  that  young  man." 

De  Brissac  had  lost  his  look  of  satisfaction.  He  was 
lying  back  in  a  chaise  longue  and  staring  gloomily  at  the 
ceiling.  His  friend  studied  him  for  a  few  moments  in 
perplexity. 

"  What  have  you,  mon  gar  con?  I  do  not  find  that  the 
fresco  merits  admiration  and  yet  it  is  not  so  bad  that  one 
must  scowl  at  it." 

The  Count  growled  an  inarticulate  response. 

"What  is  it  that  does  not  go  to  your  liking?  The 
game  is  perhaps  too  easy  ?  You  feel  your  heavy  amuni- 
tion  wasted  upon  it?  Have  patience  for  a  little  while. 


A  RENDEZVOUS  IN  TOURAINE  231 

Allow  yourself  to  be  bored  tranquilly  until  you  have  made 
your  coup.  Afterward,  there  are  diversions." 

His  cynical  old  face  smiled  cheerfully,  but  De  Brissac 
chewed  his  mustache  in  silence. 

"For  six  sous  I  would  give  up  the  plan, "he  said  at  last. 

"And  your  debts!"     De  Fontanges  asked  quietly. 

The  Count  arose  and  walked  to  the  window. 

"One  doesn't  relish  being  a  blackguard,"  he  said  with 
profound  disgust  in  his  voice.  "After  all,  one  is  a  De 
Brissac." 

"You  think  of  the  family  late  in  the  day,  mon  cher. 
And  marrying  for  money  is  perhaps  not  so  hard  upon  a 
name  as  the  things  that  will  happen  if  you  do  not  find 
money.  We  love  for  beaux  yeux— but  we  marry  for  a  dot. 
It  is  arranged  like  that  and  you  are  but  a  part  of  the  system. 
Why  complain  ?  There  is  perhaps  another  fair  one 
somewhere?  But  sentiment  is  at  times  too  expensive. 
When  one  has  danced,  one  pays  the  piper.  And,  having 
renewed  credit,  one  dances  again.  I  have  heard  that  it 
is  gay,  this  dancing  to  the  tune  of  millions." 

As  Monsieur  de  Fontanges  had  promised,  Chenon- 
ceaux  was  free  from  tragic  ghosts.  The  guide  allowed 
the  party  to  wander  where  they  would.  It  was  against 
the  rules,  she  explained,  but  M'sieu  was  a  neighbour,  an 
old  friend,  and  there  were  no  other  strangers  for  the 
moment.  M'sieu  himself  could  show  all  that  there  was 
to  see. 


232  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

She  was  quite  right.  Monsieur  de  Fontanges  proved 
a  cicerone  of  parts,  knowing  every  foot  of  his  ground, 
ready  with  fact  and  fable,  history  and  gossip,  peopling 
the  wonderful  Italian  gardens  that  were  Diane's  pride 
with  all  the  beauties  and  gallants  who  had  walked  there, 
setting  a  lovely  face  in  each  window  of  the  wing  by  which 
Catherine  made  the  chateau  bridge  the  river  Cher. 

He  was  so  entertaining,  so  delightful,  that  Belinda 
gladly  granted  him  a  place  beside  her,  listened,  laughed, 
jested  with  him,  translated  his  stories  for  Mrs.  Bagby 
and  the  Perkinses  wherever  his  English  failed  him  and  he 
lapsed  into  rapid  French. 

It  was  impossible  to  be  dull  for  a  moment  in  his  com- 
pany. He  had  read  his  companions  with  unerring  eye, 
and  had  something  in  his  raconteur's  budget  to  suit  each 
taste. 

So  well  amused  was  the  whole  party  that  no  one  noticed 
when  Amelia  and  Count  de  Brissac  fell  behind,  lingering 
first  in  the  sunlit  garden  and  then  wandering  beyond 
the  bright  parterres  into  the  forest  where  the  narrow 
allees  of  Diane's  laybrinth  cut  their  cool  shadowy  way 
through  a  world  of  misty  silver  beeches  and  sturdy  oaks 
and  firs.  It  was  made  for  lovers,  that  labyrinth,  and 
Amelia  listened  as  readily  as  any  fair  lady  who  had  ever 
paced  the  woodland  paths.  Perhaps  she  blushed  even 
more  readily  than  any  of  those  dead  and  gone  belles. 
Blushes  were  at  a  premium  in  Venus's  Court. 


A  RENDEZVOUS  IN  TOURAINE  233 

And  if  the  Count  was  not  the  most  earnest  lover  whom 
the  forest  glamour  had  aided  and  abetted,  he  was  quite 
impressive  enough  to  satisfy  a  pretty  novel-fed  senti- 
mentalist whose  foolish  head  was  no  protection  to  a 
still  more  foolish  heart. 

"Papa  will  never  allow  me  to  marry  a  foreigner,"  she 
prophesied  dismally,  in  a  lucid  interval  between  raptures. 

"If  he  objects,  we  will  do  without  his  consent." 

She  looked  frightened,  but  the  man's  hand  closed 
softly  over  hers,  his  face  was  very  near  her  own. 

"But  that  is  in  the  future.  Now,  we  have  only  to  be 
happy,"  he  said  in  his  wooing,  persuasive  voice. 

"For  the  rest  —  we  shall  see.  It  will  all  come  right 
if  you  love  me  —  and  you  do  love  me,  Mignonne  ?" 

Poor  Amelia!  That  "Mignonne"  thrilled  her  through 
and  through,  added  the  last  touch  of  poetry  to  her  romance. 
A  Spartaville  lover  would  have  called  her  "Honey,"  but 
she  had  mercifully  been  lifted  to  higher  planes  of  senti- 
ment and  she  was  grateful  for  her  blessings. 

"You  do  love  me?"  he  asked  again. 

She  was  ready  to  vow  that  she  loved  as  never  maid 
had  loved  before,  but  she  could  not  remember  what  any 
of  her  favourite  heroines  had  said  when  they  made  such 
vows,  so  she  contented  herself  with  a  whispered  "Yes." 

"Little  angel!"   murmured  the  Count. 

"But  no  one  must  know  it  —  this  dear  love  of  ours," 
he  added.  "Miss  Carewe  would  send  me  away,  write 


234  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

to  your  father,  who  knows  what  ?  She  must  not  suspect 
or  we  are  separated,  ma  mie,  and  that  would  be  too  hard." 

"Don't  you  think  I  might  tell  Laura  May?  She'd  be 
so  interested,"  Amelia  pleaded. 

"She  would  tell  her  fiance,  he  would  tell  his  friend 
Courtney.  No;  it  is  safer  to  confide  in  no  one.  "Tell  me — 
this  Monsieur  Courtney,  you  are  friends  with  him?" 

"Oh,  yes." 

"Then  he  can  be  useful,  that  excellent  young  man. 
Devote  yourself  to  him,  little  one.  If  the  others  think 
that  you  and  he  are  interested  in  each  other,  they  will 
have  no  eyes  for  us.  And  I  will  pay  my  court  to  Miss 
Carewe,  but  you  will  understand  always  that  I  do  it  only 
to  be  near  you." 

Amelia  looked  doubtful. 

"It  isn't  very  honest,"  she  said  unhappily. 

"But  it  harms  no  one.  It  is  but  love-strategy,  cherie. 
If  you  would  rather  have  me  go  away ' 

"Oh,  no,"  she  begged. 

"Then  amuse  Mr.  Courtney  when  it  is  possible.  I 
shall  envy  him,  but  there  will  be  the  hours  for  us,  and 
then,  one  day,  there  will  be  no  one  between  us,  no  one  to 
fear.  We  can  wait  a  little  while  for  so  great  a  happiness." 

"Yes,"  she  sighed,  "but  it  would  be  heavenly  to  tell 
everybody  and  have  Mr.  Courtney  give  us  a  luncheon 
and  just  go  ahead  like  Laura  May  and  Banty." 

He  kissed  the  drooping  lips  until  they  smiled  again. 


A  RENDEZVOUS  IN  TOURAINE  235 

The  truants  joined  their  party  just  as  Belinda  was 
inquiring  for  them  and  Amelia  plunged  into  feverish 
comment  on  the  beauties  of  the  chateau. 

"But  I'll  never  get  the  hedgehogs  and  the  ermine  and 
the  salamanders  straightened  out,"  she  said  hopelessly, 
as  though  she  had  spent  the  last  half-hour  in  wrestling 
with  the  royal  beasts. 

"I  simply  can't  remember  which  animal  goes  with 
which  king." 

" N'importe!"  said  De  Fontanges.  "Of  one  thing 
you  may  always  be  sure,  Mademoiselle.  They  all  had 
their  betes  noires,  those  old  kings. 


CHAPTER  THIRTEEN 

BRITTANY  DOES  HER  BEST  FOR  A  LOVER  BUT  LAURA  MAY 
BLOCKS  THE   GAME 

MONREPOS  was  as  restful  as  the  promise  in  its  name,  a 
chateau  to  banish  thought  of  ghost  and  guide  book,  a 
lighthearted,  cheerful  home  for  the  living,  on  a  gentle 
hill-slope  above  the  river,  with  vineyards  festooning  the 
sunny  slope  beyond,  and  broad-spreading  green  trees 
shading  the  lawn,  and  a  drowsy,  sweet  old  garden  rambling 
down  almost  to  the  water's  edge.  Mrs.  Bagby  broke  in 
upon  a  chorus  of  appreciative  praise. 

"How  much  land  have  you?"  she  asked  brusquely, 
the  vivid  interest  which  only  farm  matters  could  evoke 
lighting  her  eyes. 

"Only  a  little,  Madame,"  sighed  De  Fontanges. 
"The  peasants  now  divide  the  land  among  themselves. 
We  have  not  much  for  ourselves,  we  of  the  noblesse, 
but  it  is  enough.  If  you  would  care  to  go  over  the  place 
after  luncheon  I  should  be  charmed."  And  he  talked 
earnestly  with  her  of  drains  and  manures  and  pigs  and 
poultry.  He  was  versatile,  this  little  man  of  the  boule- 
vardier  air. 

296 


LAURA  MAY  BLOCKS  THE  GAME   237 

Luncheon  was  served  on  the  terrace  under  awnings 
that  flapped  gently  in  the  indolent  summer  breeze.  "A 
dejeuner  du  pays,"  as  Batiste,  the  butler,  explained  with 
smiling  pride.  Fish  from  the  river,  mushrooms  from 
the  field,  birds  from  the  forest,  salad  and  vegetables  from 
the  garden,  delicious,  fragrant  little  wild  berries  picked 
by  the  roadside,  fromage  a  la  creme  furnished  by  M'sieu's 
cows,  wine  from  M'sieu's  vineyards. 

"And  you  ever  have  the  heart  to  leave  this  place?" 
Belinda  said  to  her  host,  as  she  ate  her  last  berry  and 
looked  out  across  the  valley  to  where  the  forest  of  Amboise 
slumbered  in  the  noontide  haze. 

"There  are  also  the  boulevards  and  the  Cafe"  Anglais, 
Mademoiselle.  Amuse  yourselves,  my  friends.  The 
place  is  yours.  Madame  Bagby  and  I  go  to  the 
barns." 

Mr.  Perkins,  who  had  been  composing  himself  for  an 
after-luncheon  nap  in  a  low  willow  chair,  sat  up,  as  he 
heard  the  announcement,  and  looked  about  helplessly 
for  his  hat. 

"I  will  go  to  the  barns,  too,"  he  announced  with  firmness. 
Mrs.  Bagby  stared  at  him  in  surprise. 

"Land  sakes,  what  do  you  know  about  a  barn?"  she 
asked;  but  he  ignored  the  question  and  stalked  away 
beside  her,  listening  with  tightly  pressed  lips  to  Mon- 
sieur de  Fontanges's  fluent  prattle. 

"Behold  the  green-eyed  monster." 


£38  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

De  Brissac's  voice  was  too  low  for  any  ears  save 
Belinda's.  She  turned  to  him  laughing. 

"You  must  reason  with  your  friend,  Count.  There 
are  no  capsules  that  will  cure  jealousy,  and  I  must  take 
my  party  safely  home." 

"Will  you  be  allowed  to  take  in,  without  duty,  so  many 
European-made  romances?  There,  also,  one  sees  the 
beginning  of  the  end." 

He  nodded  toward  the  other  side  of  the  terrace  where 
Amelia  and  Courtney  were  sitting  on  the  low  parapet. 
Belinda  looked  at  the  two  for  a  moment,  then  rose,  turn- 
ing her  back  upon  them,  and  led  the  way  down  the  broad, 
shallow  steps  into  the  garden. 

Clouds  of  white  butterflies  hovered  over  the  masses 
of  purple  heliotrope  that  bordered  the  path,  creamy 
roses  nodded  at  her  as  she  passed,  tall  white  lilies  bowed 
and  beckoned.  The  air  was  heavy  with  warmth  and 
fragrance,  but  fanned,  now  and  then,  by  little,  fresh, 
vagrant  breezes  that  scattered  flower  petals  and  set  the 
long  stems  swaying.  They  played  tricks  with  Belinda's 
hair  too,  those  audacious  breezes,  blowing  it  low  on  her 
forehead,  curling  it  round  her  ears,  lifting  loose  strands 
up  to  catch  the  sunlight;  and  the  Count  watched  envi- 
ously while  they  had  their  way  with  it  —  that  golden 
brown  hair  that  would  be  so  soft  to  the  touch,  so  silken- 
smooth  to  hands  or  lips. 

The  sun  heat  stole  into  his  veins,  and  yet,  that  very 


LAURA  MAY  BLOCKS  THE  GAME        239 

morning  in  another  garden,  it  had  not  warmed  his  blood, 
even  to  moderate  heat.  He  had  prodded  himself  to  love- 
words  there;  and,  now,  love- words  were  beating  in  his 
brain,  knocking  at  his  lips,  clamouring  to  be  spoken. 

Belinda  glanced   back   at  him,   across  /her  shoulder. 

"Is  it  cooler  down  by  the  water  ?"  she  asked. 

"There  is  a  boat,"  he  answered  eagerly.  "We  could 
follow  the  bank  where  the  willows  overhang  the  water  and 
so  keep  in  the  shade." 

She  hesitated  for  a  moment,  looked  toward  the  terrace 
and  walked  on  down  the  path  toward  the  river.  Why 
not  play,  since  every  one,  even  Mrs.  Bagby  and  Mr. 
Perkins,  was  busy  with  the  game  ? 

They  talked  of  many  things,  as  the  boat  stole  along 
in  the  shade  of  the  willows,  but  always  the  talk  drifted 
back  to  love  —  old  loves  of  hearts  long  dust,  but  no  safe 
theme  for  a  man  and  a  maid.  He  told  her  love-stories 
of  Touraine,  stories  gay  and  sad  and  pitiful  and  bad,  but 
each  one  pleading  the  heart's  cause;  and,  as  her  eyes 
grew  dreamier  and  her  lips  sweeter,  he  quite  forgot  poor 
little  Amelia  and  her  millions,  forgot  his  debts  and  close- 
pressing  scandals,  forgot  everything  except  that  he  was 
in  love  at  last,  blindingly,  bewildering  in  love  with  a  slip 
of  a  girl  whose  hair  was  gold  where  the  sun  touched  it 
and  whose  face  was  an  excuse  for  midsummer  madness. 

"Poor  things!"  she  said,  as  he  finished  a  tale  of  grim 
Plessis  le  Tours;  "I  wonder  whether  they  loved  more  in 


240  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

those  old  days  or  merely  had  more  heroic  chances  lo 
prove  their  love." 

She  was  trailing  one  hand  in  the  cool  water  by  the 
boatside  and  watching  the  eddies  round  it,  so  she  did  not 
see  the  Count's  eyes. 

"They  loved  more  frankly,"  he  said,  and  the  look  in 
the  eyes  had  become  a  throb  in  the  voice.  "Men  said 
what  they  felt  and  women  were  not  afraid  to  listen.  I 
think  the  courage  and  the  passion  linger  in  the  air  here, 
even  now.  Would  you  listen  to  a  lover  who  could  offer 
you  nothing  worth  having  save  love  —  foolish,  reckless, 
mad  love  ?  Would  you  listen  ?  —  or  would  you  be 
afraid  to  know?" 

She  looked  up  laughingly,  ready  to  turn  his  question 
to  a  jest,  but  his  face  was  white  and  his  lips  did  not  smile. 

"Would  you  listen?"  he  asked  again.  The  boat  was 
drifting  now.  He  leaned  forward  and  caught  her  hands, 
carrying  them  to  his  lips. 

"Don't,"  she  said  quickly.     "Don't.     You  are  spoiling 
everything.     We  were  all  so  happy  and  you  will  make 
all   the   beautiful   plans   impossible  —  Brittany,   Paris  - 
everything.     You  mustn't  make  love  to  me.     You  have 
no   right  —  I've  given  you   no  reason    to  think  - 

She  was  breathless,  stammering.  Something  in  his 
eyes  frightened  her.  The  noonday  hush  seemed  to  have 
grown  sultry,  oppressive,  storm  portent. 

"Don't,"  she  said  again,  but  this  time  in  protest  against 


LAURA  MAY  BLOCKS  THE  GAME        241 

what  his  eyes  were  saying.  "I  don't  love  you.  I  can't 
listen.  I  would  have  to  send  you  away." 

He  sat  quite  still  for  a  moment,  looking  at  her,  and  a 
shadow  gathered  in  his  face  until  it  had  blotted  out  the 
white  passion  there.  Then  he  kissed  the  hands  he  held, 
kissed  them  slowly,  deliberately,  freed  them,  and  took 
up  his  oars. 

"  As  you  say,  I  have  no  right,"  he  agreed  bitterly.  "  And 
it  is  only  women  who  may  spoil  things  without  blame." 

They  left  the  boat  moored  at  the  little  dock  and  went 
back  to  the  chateau  in  silence. 

"I  am  sorry,"  Belinda  said  gently  as  they  climbed 
the  terrace  steps.  She  felt  humble  and  guilty.  A  Per- 
'  onal  Conductor,  even  when  temporarily  off  duty,  should 
have  known  better  than  to  experiment  with  the  Latin 
temperament,  on  a  golden  day,  in  an  enchanted  land. 

In  the  cool  of  the  afternoon,  the  three  cars  sped  back 
to  Tours  along  one  of  the  loveliest  roads  in  France,  but 
only  Monsieur  de  Fontanges  was  still  talkative. 

"Why  so  quiet,  Miss  Bowers?"  asked  Lord  Ban- 
tholme,  suddenly  realizing  that,  though  Amelia  was  in 
the  tonneau,  there  was  silence  in  the  car. 

"I'm  too  happy  to  talk,"  she  said  seriously.  Laura 
May  turned  to  look  at  her.  Then  she  studied  Courtney's 
face  and  assumed  an  expression  of  supernatural  wisdom. 
Matchmaking  becomes  a  mania  with  the  girl  who  is 
happily  engaged  or  happily  married. 


242  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

After  that  day  at  Chenonceaux  and  Monrepos,  three 
motor  cars  went  with  Lord  Bantholnie's  party  instead 
of  two.  Monsieur  de  Fontanges  contributed  so  much 
to  the  entertainment  of  the  crowd  that  no  one  except 
Mr.  Perkins  looked  askance  at  him,  and  Count  de  Brissac 
made  himself  vastly  agreeable  to  every  one  except  Courtney, 
with  whom  he  failed  in  spite  of  conscientious  effort. 

"They're  an  addition,"  Mrs.  Bagby  said  to  Belinda  in 
her  positive  way.  "That  frisky  old  gentleman  livens 
things  up  a  heap.  I  wouldn't  trust  him  on  the  other  side 
of  a  soda  cracker  you  know;  but  it's  real  entertaining 
to  be  on  the  same  side  of  the  cracker  with  him." 

Not  a  historic  spot  nor  an  opportunity  for  amusement 
did  Monsieur  de  Fontanges  allow  his  new  friends  to  miss. 
They  shuddered  over  Loches  and  Louis  XI's  victims. 
They  rode  up  the  hill  to  the  chateau  of  Chinon  in  Jeanne 
d'Arc's  train,  and  lunched  with  the  Gargantuan  spirit 
of  Rabelais  at  the  little  hotel  looking  out  over  Chinon's 
busy  market  place.  They  gathered  luscious  fruit  in 
orchards  where  the  trees  were  loaded  to  breaking  point, 
they  picked  wild  berries  to  eat  with  roadside  tea,  they 
picnicked  in  dim  forests  through  whose  hearts  the  white 
roads  cleaved  their  clean-cut  way,  they  bought  unpack- 
able  things  of  cajoling  market  vendors  and  patronized 
Punch  and  Judy  shows  at  rustic  fe'tes. 

And  when,  one  blue  and  gold  morning,  the  three  cars  took 
the  road  for  Vannes,  there  was  regret  in  their  good-byes. 


LAURA  MAY  BLOCKS  THE  GAME         243 

"Ten  perfect  days,"  said  Belinda. 

"Brittany  will  have  to  be  kind  if  she  is  to  console  us 
for  leaving  Touraine." 

Brittany  ivas  kind  to  them  in  her  earnest,  unsmiling 
way.  At  least  she  was  kind  to  every  one  except  Courtney 
and,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  he  had  considered  himself 
aggrieved  even  during  the  last  days  in  Touraine.  Summed 
up  neatly,  his  grievance  was  an  overdose  of  Amelia. 
Wherever  he  went,  he  found  her  by  his  side.  If  she  did 
not  arrange  the  grouping  herself,  some  one  else  did  it  for 
her.  Count  de  Brissac,  Monsieur  de  Fontanges,  his 
Aunt  Florilla,  Laura  May  —  all  lent  a  helping  hand. 
Lord  Bantholme,  moved  by  Courtney's  protests,  attempted 
to  reason  with  Laura  May;  but  she  proved  to  him  in  five 
minutes  that  he  ought  not  to  interfere.  With  certain 
infallible  accompaniments  to  feminine  logic,  she  could 
have  proved  anything  to  that  infatuated  young  nobleman 
in  much  less  than  five  minutes. 

"Don't  be  silly,  dear,"  she  advised,  with  that  superior 
air  which  all  women  assume  when  explaining  subtle 
affairs  of  the  heart  to  mere  men.  "It  would  be  the  best 
thing  in  the  world  for  him  and  it's  sure  to  come  out  all 
right  if  he  and  Amelia  are  thrown  together  enough." 

"But  he's  in  love  with  Miss  Carewe,  I  tell  you." 

"Nonsense.  He  hasn't  a  bit  of  chance  with  her.  She 
can  hardly  stand  him,  and  it's  so  foolish  for  a  nice  man 
like  that  to  waste  time  loving  in  vain.  He  isn't  a  bit 


244  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

that  kind.  Amelia's  a  dear  and  she's  in  love  with  him. 
Anybody  can  see  that.  She  almost  runs  after  him.  And 
she'll  have  such  a  lot  of  money  —  he  does  like  to  spend 
money,  you  know.  So  I  think  if  you're  really  a  friend  of 
his  you'll  consider  his  best  interests  and  tell  him  what  a 
darling  Amelia  is  and  how  Miss  Care  we  dislikes  him  and 
what  a  good  time  he  could  have  with  piles  of  money." 

He  didn't  exactly  tell  Courtney  all  that,  but  he  took  a 
neutral  position  and  watched  his  friend's  struggles  with- 
out lending  a  helping  hand.  Women  knew  more  about 
such  things  than  men,  he  reasoned. 

Only  Mrs.  Bagby  understood  and  sympathized.  As 
for  Belinda,  she  was  busy  binding  up  wounds  of  her  own 
making.  She  was  kind  to  Count  de  Brissac  in  those 
Breton  days  —  oh,  angel-kind  to  him.  There's  nothing 
that  will  win  a  woman's  sympathy  like  a  hopeless  passion 
which  she  herself  has  inspired,  and  the  best  of  her  sex 
will  resort  to  nursing  rather  than  surgery  in  such  cases. 
She  and  Mrs.  Bagby  rode  with  Monsieur  de  Fontanges 
and  the  Count,  as  a  rule;  Mr.  Perkins,  his  sister  and  Mrs. 
Nicholson  were  driven  by  Sykes;  Courtney  and  Amelia 
sat  behind  the  Earl  and  Laura  May.  If  there  was  dis- 
content with  the  arrangement,  no  sign  of  it  appeared  in 
the  car  of  Monsieur  de  Fontanges.  He  was  amusing 
himself  prodigiously,  this  man  of  catholic  tastes.  His 
keen  wit  and  worldly  sophistry  tilted  gayly  against  Mrs. 
Bagby's  native  humour  and  shrewd  common-sense.  She 


LAURA  MAY  BLOCKS  THE  GAME         245 

was  a  novelty,  a  type,  and  he  had  the  intelligence  to 
appreciate  her,  a  curiosity  to  see  what  effect  French  gal- 
lantry might  have  upon  her.  Incidentally,  he  found  Mr. 
Perkins's  throes  diverting. 

Jealousy  did  not  sit  gracefully  upon  the  erstwhile  self- 
centred  hypochondriac,  but  it  stirred  him  to  an  energy 
which  no  capsules  had  inspired.  The  moment  that  the 
cars  unloaded  their  freight,  he  appeared  at  Mrs.  Bagby's 
right  hand  and  there  he  stuck  fast  during  the  waking 
hours.  He  tramped  miles,  keeping  pace  with  her  sturdy 
stride,  he  cut  short  his  study  of  the  dolmens  of  Carnac 
to  go  to  a  fair  at  Auray,  he  passed  by  Romanesque  ruins 
to  visit  ill-smelling  sardine  factories  and  investigate  can- 
ning processes. 

Those  were  strenuous  days  for  an  invalid,  but  he  throve 
surprisingly  on  them.  His  cheeks  plumped  out,  healthy 
brown  and  red  replaced  his  sallow  tints,  his  appetite 
increased,  his  step  acquired  a  spring,  a  resourceful 
alertness  elbowed  aside  the  fretful  dependence  which  had 
been  his  chronic  attitude.  And  Mrs.  Bagby  watched 
him  with  a  wise  calculation  in  her  eyes,  though  the  bulk 
of  her  attention  seemed  usually  to  be  given  to  the  chatty 
little  Frenchman,  trotting  cheerfully  at  her  left. 

"If  Jonas  could  see  her  now,"  said  Belinda  to  Mrs. 
Nicholson,  who  smiled  response. 

"Monsieur  de  Fontanges  has  charming  manners," 
she  admitted.  "  One  cannot  help  liking  him." 


246  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

The  gallant  Frenchman  at  times  had  shown  an  appre- 
ciation of  old  porcelain  femininity  as  well  as  of  the  farm- 
bred  product,  and  even  when  a  woman's  heart  is  laid 
away  in  dried  rose  leaves  and  sweet  lavender,  she  is  not 
wholly  insensible  to  subtle  flattery. 

Not  until  the  party  reached  Pontaven  was  Courtney 
able  to  assert  himself  and  exchange  partners  with  Count 
de  Brissac.  Perhaps  desperate  hardihood  worked  the 
desired  result  and  then  again,  a  conversation  which  Mon- 
sieur de  Fontanges  had  with  his  relative  in  the  writing 
room  of  Madame  Josephine's  hotel  may  have  had  some- 
thing to  do  with  the  situation. 

"You  are  going  far,  mon  cher"  the  older  man  remarked 
lightly  but  with  a  hint  of  warning  in  his  tones.  "There 
are  proverbs  about  amusing  oneself  by  playing  with  the 
fire,  and  then  again  I  remember  a  most  instructive  little 
fable  —  was  it  by  Monsieur  Alsop  or  by  our  La  Fontaine  ? 
At  any  rate  it  had  to  do  with  a  dog  who  was  carrying  a 
bone  across  the  waters.  He  attempted  to  secure,  also, 
the  reflection  of  the  bone  which  he  saw  in  the  water.  And, 
as  I  remember  it,  he  arrived  at  the  other  side  of  the  stream 
quite  boneless,  but  with  an  appetite  to  make  one  shudder. 
Me,  I  have  passion  for  bones  —  but  a  dislike  for  hunger." 

De  Brissac  scowled  at  the  fable,  but  took  its  moral 
to  heart,  and  while  the  party  rambled  about  the  over- 
picturesque  little  town  beloVed  of  artists,  he  walked  at 
Amelia's  side,  smiling,  devoted,  but  casting  occasional 


LAURA  MAY  BLOCKS  THE  GAME      247 

glances  toward  Belinda  and  Courtney.  They  were  gay, 
those  two,  full  of  absurdities  and  follies.  Courtney 
could  have  told  why  his  spirits  were  soaring  like  a  toy 
balloon.  He  had  no  doubts  whatever  as  to  the  cause; 
but  Belinda,  being  a  woman,  was  not  frank,  even  with 
herself. 

"The  air  is  intoxicating  here  in  Brittany,"  she  said, 
by  way  of  apology  for  her  mood.  "It  makes  me  fey,  after 
the  warmth  and  languor  of  Touraine.  And  then  this  is 
such  a  dear  foolish  little  town.  It  doesn't  look  true  at 
all,  you  know.  So  many  narrow  streets  and  winding 
waterways,  and  picturesque  mill  wheels  and  adorable 
little  bridges  never  got  together  in  any  natural  way.  The 
artists  have  painted  the  place  and  set  it  up,  and  it  knows 
perfectly  well  that  it's  only  a  stage  setting  and  not  a  real 
town." 

"Here  comes  the  chorus,"  added  Courtney,  looking 
down  a  side  street  where  a  crowd  was  pouring  from  a 
little  gray  church. 

"The  merry,  merry  villagers!  Didn't  I  tell  you  this 
was  a  comic-opera  town  ?  What  a  delectable  crowd ! " 

"I  rather  think  it's  a  wedding." 

"Oh,  it  is!  It  is.  That  particularly  gorgeous  girl 
must  be  the  bride.  They're  going  the  other  way.  Let's 
follow  them." 

Belinda  turned  around  excitedly. 

"Where  are  the  others?"  she  asked. 


248  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

"Around   the   next   corner.     They   went   on   ahead." 

She  looked  at  him  with  invitation  in  her  face. 

"Never  mind  them  —  come  on,"  he  urged,  and  away 
they  hurried  after  the  wedding  party,  winding  and  twist- 
ing about  the  inconsequent  streets,  until  they  caught  up 
with  the  procession,  as  it  turned  into  a  little  market 
place  near  the  river. 

A  roof  covered  the  stone-paved  square.  At  one  end 
a  rude  gallery  ran  across  from  side  to  side;  and  from  it, 
presently,  came  a  buzzing  and  humming  and  droning, 
gradually  rising  to  shrillness  and  life. 

"Bagpipes!"  gasped  Belinda.  "I  saw  the  heather 
and  gorse  to-day  but  I  didn't  expect  bagpipes."  The 
wedding  party  had  scattered  itself  about  the  square,  but 
as  the  music  grew  louder  and  more  insistent,  the  younger 
men  and  women  gravitated  toward  each  other  and  chose 
partners.  A  moment  later  the  bride  and  groom  —  she 
in  full  skirt  and  silk  apron  and  snowy  coif,  he  in  plaited 
trousers  and  velvet  coat  —  led  off  in  a  queer,  trotting 
dance  which  grew  faster  and  faster  as  the  music  skirled. 
No  swaying  rhythm,  no  languorous  grace,  but  a  dance 
testing  legs  and  mind.  Up  and  down  and  round  the 
dancers  went,  over  the  rough  stone  paving,  in  and  out, 
whirling  and  twirling,  out  of  the  market  place  and  down 
the  narrow  streets,  back  again  without  ever  a  stop  or  a 
break.  No  pause  for  breath,  but  on,  on,  on,  with  red 
cheeks  and  shining  eyes  and  smiling  lips. 


LAURA  MAY  BLOCKS  THE  GAME       249 

"Well,  there's  one  giddy  thing  in  this  beautiful,  serious 
land,"  said  Belinda.  "How  can  they  keep  it  up?  I'm 
out  of  breath  just  watching  them." 

"I  could  do  it,"  boasted  Courtney. 

"Is  that  a  dare?"  she  asked. 

"If  Madame  and  M'sieu  would  care  to  join  in  the 
gavotte  —  "  said  a  cheerful  voice.  A  Breton  woman, 
long-limbed,  deep-bosomed,  clear-eyed,  her  plaited  skirt 
standing  out  like  a  shelf  around  her  hips,  her  coif  and  fichu 
dazzling  white  in  the  sunshine,  had  come  across  the  square 
to  them  and  was  speaking  in  halting  French. 

"It  is  my  daughter  who  marries,"  she  said  with  pride, 
"  and  if  the  Americans  would  like  to  dance  — 

The  pipes  insisted,  the  dancers  trotted  past,  their  sabots 
clicking  like  a  multitude  of  castanets,  the  bride's  mother 
smiled  encouragement. 

Courtney  held  out  his  hand. 

Belinda  waited  a  moment,  her  face  aglow  with  kindling 
resolution.  Then  she  tossed  her  hat  aside,  took  the 
proffered  hand  and  off  they  went,  footing  it  bravely  over 
the  uneven  stones,  whirling  and  twirling  with  the  best, 
following  the  bride  and  bridegroom  in  a  mad  dash  down 
one  street  and  up  another,  around  an  old  mill  and  back 
to  the  market  hall.  There  Belinda  brought  up,  crimson- 
cheeked,  gasping  for  breath.  She  leaned  limply  against 
a  post,  her  hand  still  in  Courtney's,  her  eyes  meeting  his 
merrily. 


250  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

"I  can  no  more.  My  shoes  and  my  breathing  appara- 
tus were  never  made  for  it.  I'm  the  product  of  an  effete 
civilization  —  but  wasn't  it  great  ?" 

"Immense.  Puts  it  all  over  any  feeble  little  terpsi- 
chorean  efforts  I  ever  made  before." 

He  had  apparently  forgotten  that  he  was  holding  her 
hand;  and,  as  they  turned  away,  after  an  exchange  of 
smiles  with  the  bride's  mother,  they  went  like  two  children, 
hand  in  hand  and  laughing. 

"Such  a  glorious,  foolish  morning!"  Belinda  said 
happily.  "There  really  is  something  about  this  Breton 
air." 

"There  is,"  the  man  agreed  with  emphasis.  "I  didn't 
think  I  would  like  Brittany  as  I  do.  It's  a  heavenly 
country." 

They  met  their  friends  when  they  turned  the  next 
corner,  but  they  were  walking  soberly  then,  though  the 
sound  of  pipes  was  still  buzzing  in  their  ears  and  the 
excitement  of  the  gavotte  still  shining  in  their  faces. 

Oddly  enough,  neither  the  girl  nor  the  man  said  a  word 
about  the  wedding.  The  crowd  would  have  wanted  to 
go  to  the  dance  and  that  Breton  gavotte  belonged  to  them. 

When  the  cars  whizzed  on  to  Quimper  that  afternoon, 
Belinda  was  sitting  in  the  tonneau  of  Lord  Bantholme's 
car  with  Courtney.  She  hardly  knew  how  it  had  come 
about,  but  Courtney  did.  He  had  carried  his  point 
high-handedly,  regardless  of  Amelia's  wishes  or  of  De 


LAURA  MAY  BLOCKS  THE  GAME   251 

Brissac's  plans,  and  he  had  found  an  unexpected  ally  in 
Monsieur  de  Fontanges,  who  had,  in  fact,  taken  the  mat- 
ter out  of  his  hands,  adjusted  it  with  his  usual  suavity, 
bestowed  Amelia  in  his  own  car,  called  the  Count  to  a 
seat  beside  her,  and  disappeared  in  a  cloud  of  dust, 
leaving  Belinda  and  Courtney  to  inevitable  companion- 
ship. 

On  the  road  to  Douarnenez,  the  next  day,  things  were 
again  to  Courtney's  liking.  He  was  radiantly  content 
and  Belinda  seemed  to  have  no  quarrel  with  the  Fates. 
The  wild  gavotte  had  broken  down  the  wall  of  constraint 
that  had  risen  between  them  since  the  friendly  Swiss  days. 
They  had  been  foolish  together;  and,  when  two  people 
can  be  unreservedly  foolish  together,  they  have  gone  far 
along  the  road  to  comradeship. 

So  Belinda  smiled  on  Courtney  and  Courtney  smiled 
on  all  the  world.  He  considered  Finistere  the  garden  of 
Europe,  and  was  surprised  when  Laura  May  and  Lord 
Bantholme  remarked  upon  the  wildness  and  bleakness 
of  the  scenery  after  Quimper  and  its  sheltered  valley  were 
left  behind.  Even  wind-swept,  wave-battered  Pointe 
du  Raz  and  the  cruel,  ill-omened  Bale  des  Tre*passes 
appealed  to  him  as  cheerful,  pleasant  spots  and  he  sniffed 
up  the  sardine  scents  of  Douarnenez,  as  though  he  were 
breathing  spicy  odors  from  Araby  the  blest. 

When,  late  in  the  afternoon,  Belinda  went  alone  with 
him  for  a  walk  along  the  shore,  his  cup  of  joy  was  so  full 


252  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

that  he  carried  it  soberly,  half  afraid  to  laugh  for  fear 
of  scattering  the  precious  drops.  A  quiet  happiness  had 
succeeded  to  his  festive  mood  and  neither  he  nor  Belinda 
talked  much  as  they  strolled  along  the  sands  and  climbed 
the  ragged  rocks.  It  was  in  one  of  their  long  silences 
that  they  heard  a  voice  singing  —  a  beautiful  voice,  clear 
and  strong  and  sweet  —  singing  a  Breton  song  whose 
words  they  could  not  understand  but  whose  refrain  held 
the  sea  sadness  and  the  sea  lure.  They  stopped  for  a 
moment,  standing  still  to  listen;  then  they  moved  on 
slowly,  quietly,  and  as  they  rounded  a  heather-crowned 
mound,  they  came  upon  a  man  sitting  in  a  hollow  of  the 
rock,  his  hands  clasped  behind  his  head,  his  eyes  look- 
ing out  to  sea.  He  was  in  the  old  Breton  costume,  but 
his  velvet  coat  was  worn  and  shabby,  the  full  trousers 
showed  many  a  patch  and  had  faded  in  the  sun  until 
one  could  but  guess  at  their  original  colour.  A  battered, 
broad-brimmed  hat  with  its  ragged  riband,  fluttering  in 
the  sea  wind,  lay  on  the  rock  beside  the  singer  and  heavy 
hobnailed  shoes  kept  the  hat  company,  while  their  owner 
stretched  bare  brown  feet  to  the  sunshine. 

The  song  stopped  when  he  saw  the  strangers,  but  he 
did  not  move,  and  when  Belinda  spoke  to  him,  he  returned 
her  greeting  civilly  in  French,  but  looked  away  quickly 
as  though  expecting  the  intruders  to  pass. 

Belinda  hesitated,  looking  at  the  strong,  sombre  face, 
with  its  far-seeing,  dreaming  eyes.  Then  she  moved 


LAURA   MAY    BLOCKS   THE    GAME      253 

nearer  and  smiled  down  at  him;  but  the  smile  was  not 
the  one  with  which  she  had  so  often  worked  havoc  in 
manly  breasts.  This  smile  was  grave,  humble,  pleading; 
and  her  voice,  when  she  spoke,  was  like  the  smile. 

"We  are  strangers,"  she  said,  "who  love  Brittany. 
May  we  listen  while  you  sing  ?  " 

He  turned  his  gaze  from  the  sea  to  her  face  and  studied 
it  carefully,  without  rudeness  and  without  flattery. 

"If  you  will,"  he  said,  at  last,  and  turned  once  more 
to  the  sea. 

The  girl  and  the  man  sat  down  near  him  and  waited. 
For  the  while  there  was  no  sound  save  the  breaking  of 
the  waves  upon  the  sand  below  them.  Then  the  music 
rose  again  and  the  Song  Man  sang  on  and  on,  while  the 
sun  dropped  low  in  the  west  and  the  sea  changed  from 
blue  to  rose  and  gray.  Breton  songs,  all  of  them.  Only 
here  and  there  could  the  listeners  understand  a  word, 
but  the  melody  and  the  voice  were  enough.  Into  Belinda's 
eyes  crept  the  dreams  and  the  visions.  Her  lips  were 
a-quiver  with  thoughts  she  could  never  have  expressed. 
She,  too,  searched  the  sea  and  the  sky  for  secrets  hidden 
when  the  world  was  young.  And  Courtney,  watching 
her  face  without  rebuke,  while  she  saw  far  sights  and  heard 
strange  messages,  drifted  into  a  dream  mood  himself, 
but  his  dreams  were  of  a  to-morrow.  He  moved  nearer 
her  until  their  shoulders  touched,  but  she  paid  no  heed, 
and  when  his  hand  closed  softly  over  hers,  where  it  lay 


254  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

white  against  the  grim  gray  rock,  she  gave  no  sign  of  dis- 
pleasure. It  even  seemed  as  though  the  cool  slim  fingers 
returned  his  pressure  faintly,  were  glad  of  the  warm 
human  clasp  in  a  world  of  faery. 

The  soft,  fluttering  touch  set  the  man's  blood  a-flame. 
The  beauty  of  song  and  sea  and  sky  were  an  ache  in  his 
throat,  the  beauty  of  the  one  woman's  rapt  face  was  an 
ache  in  his  heart.  She  was  so  unutterably  dear,  so  infinitely 
to  be  desired  —  the  Rose  of  the  World,  though  in  this 
softened,  dreamy  mood,  all  her  prickly  thorniness  had 
disappeared.  When  the  deeps  break  up  in  the  soul  of 
the  matter-of-fact  modern  man,  he  finds  the  experience 
a  painful  thing.  No  ex-football  hero  can  discover  with 
equanimity  the  fact  that  he  is,  at  bottom,  a  lyric  poet. 
Jack  Courtney  had  acknowledged  that  he  was  in  love. 
Fellows  did  fall  in  love.  But  this  thing  that  was  tugging 
at  his  heart  and  beating  at  his  brain  there  by  the  Breton 
sea  was  too  big  for  him,  foreign  to  all  his  training  and 
traditions:  a  gigantic,  primal  thing  with  the  sweep  of 
far  horizons  and  the  sea  depth  and  the  sky  mystery, 
holding  the  music's  rhythm  and  the  wave's  urge  and  the 
sunset's  glow.  And  it  found  him  dumb  and  helpless 
and  unprepared.  How  should  a  hard-headed  New  York 
broker,  Yale,  1904  (and  "Sheff"  at  that),  be  ready  to 
walk  with  the  gods  and  speak  their  tongue  ? 

But  football  and  Stock  Exchange  do  develop  a  certain 
resourcefulness,  even  if  they  are  not  fit  training  for  Olym- 


LAURA  MAY  BLOCKS  THE  GAME        255 

pus.  Courtney  was  swept  from  his  moorings  but  not 
wholly  overwhelmed.  Even  the  dumb  have  their  methods 
of  expression. 

His  clasp  of  Belinda's  hand  tightened  gently,  his  other 
hand  stole  around  her  waist  and  drew  her  toward  him. 
The  slender  little  body  nestled  cozily  in  the  hollow  of 
his  arm,  the  brown  head  rested  comfortably  against  his 
shoulder. 

After  all,  are  there  better  methods  on  High  Olympus  ? 

The  Song  Man  sang  on,  the  girl's  brown  eyes  dreamed, 
and  the  lover  sat  quite  still,  afraid  to  stir  lest  the  good 
moment  should  slip  away.  He  knew  well  enough  that 
wizardry  had  come  to  his  aid,  that  the  girl  who  leaned 
against  him  was  scarcely  conscious  of  him,  of  the  admis- 
sion she  was  making,  but  that  she  should  take  him  with 
her  into  her  dream  was  much.  He  could  wait  for  the 
rest. 

When  silence  came  again,  Belinda  stirred,  moved  away, 
but  even  yet  the  glamour  of  music  and  sea  were  on  her 
and  she  did  not  seem  conscious  that  the  Proprieties  were 
veiling  their  outraged  heads.  Love  was  at  home  there 
by  the  sea. 

"Are  all  Breton  songs  so  sad?"  she  asked  gently, 
"  and  so  beautiful  ?  " 

The  Song  Man  looked  at  her  and  smiled  a  little,  but 
not  mirthfully. 

"We  are  not  gay,  we  Bretons,"  he  said.     "The  sea 


256  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

gives  us  our  bread  and  takes  its  pay  in  lives.  We  work 
and  we  praise  God  and  we  meet  what  He  sends,  but  we 
are  not  gay." 

"And  yet  every  one  sings,  even  though  the  songs  are 
sad;  they  sing,  and  the  voices  are  beautiful." 

He  nodded. 

"It  is  the  Blessed  Virgin  who  has  arranged  it  so,"  he 
said.  "She  made  a  promise  to  King  Grallon,  you  know, 
and  Our  Lady  keeps  her  promises  she  makes." 

"But  what  did  she  promise  —  and  why?"  Belinda's 
face  was  eager  and  Courtney,  watching  her,  did  not  wonder 
that  the  man's  eyes  had  grown  kinder,  his  lips  less  stern. 

"It  was  Grallon  who  was  King  of  Ys.  You  have 
heard  of  the  great  city  that  once  stood  by  the  sea  in  Finis- 
tere,  Mam'selle  ?  One  sees  the  wall  yet,  in  the  Baie  des 
Trepasses;  and,  when  the  storm  rolls  the  waves  in,  one 
hears  the  bells  ringing  there  below  the  sea.  Travellers 
laugh;  but  I  have  heard  the  bells  of  Ys,  not  once  or  twice, 
but  many  times." 

He  looked  to  see  whether  she,  too,  laughed,  but  her  face 
was  credulous  and  grave. 

"  It  was  because  of  the  sins  of  Dahut,  the  daughter  of 
Grallon,  that  Ys  was  swallowed  up  by  the  sea;  and  when 
Grallon  fled  on  his  great  horse,  with  Dahut  riding  behind 
him,  the  sea  followed  them  until  the  waves  had  mounted 
to  the  saddle.  And  some  say  that  the  waves  dragged 
Dahut  down ;  but  the  true  tale  is  that  Gwennole,  the  monk 


LAURA  MAY  BLOCKS  THE  GAME        257 

who  rode  beside  the  king,  commanded  Grallon  to  push 
his  daughter  into  the  sea,  so  that  he  himself  might  live 
and  work  out  his  salvation.  And  the  king  did  as  the 
monk  said,  but  always  afterward  he  heard  Dahut's  voice 
crying,  'Save  me,  father!'  and  he  grieved,  though  he 
became  a  holy  man.  Then  Dahut  lived  in  the  sea,  and 
as  she  had  won  lovers  and  slain  them  in  her  life,  so  she 
sang  to  them  and  wooed  them  and  slew  them  in  her  death ; 
for  when  she  rose  above  the  waves  with  her  golden  hair 
and  her  beautiful  face  and  sang  and  beckoned,  sailors 
threw  themselves  into  the  sea  to  reach  her  and  the  lovers 
of  Dahut  never  came  back  alive  to  the  shore. 

"  It  was  Mary  Morgan  that  she  was  called  now,  and  her 
soul,  which  was  sinful,  was  condemned  to  sin  forever: 
and  King  Grallon,  knowing  that  he  had  sent  her  to  the 
shame,  refused  to  be  comforted,  and  heard  always  her 
song  in  his  ears.  He  built  a  great  church  to  Our  Lady 
at  Rumengol,  and  at  last  one  day  he  died,  and  when  he 
entered  Paradise,  the  Blessed  Virgin  came  to  meet  him 
and  asked  him  what  he  needed  to  make  Paradise  happy 
for  him.  Since  he  had  given  her  so  beautiful  a  church, 
she  wished  that  he  might  enjoy  himself  there  among 
the  blessed. 

"And  he  asked  Our  Lady  to  take  away  the  voice  of 
Mary  Morgan  so  that  she  might  sin  no  more  and  find 
peace;  but  the  Virgin  could  not  do  that,  for  it  had  been 
ordered  in  Heaven  that  the  punishment  should  endure. 


258  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

So  she  promised  that  she  would  do  what  would  be  almost 
as  good.  She  would  fill  Brittany  with  singers,  and  with 
the  flood  of  song  the  voice  of  the  wicked  one  would  be 
drowned  so  that  none  would  hear  it. 

"  It  is  so  that  the  Pardon  of  the  Singers  has  come  about, 
Mam'selle.  Every  year  the  pilgrims  went  to  the  shrine 
of  Our  Lady  at  Rumengol  and  she  touched  their  hearts 
and  their  throats  and  their  lips,  so  that  they  came  away 
singing  new  songs  in  voices  of  gold.  And,  in  time,  songs 
of  piety  rose  all  through  the  land  so  that  Mary  Morgan 
sang  in  vain  from  the  sea  and  King  Grallon  was  at  ease 
in  Paradise." 

He  ended  the  tale  and  leaned  toward  Belinda. 

"But  there  are  lads  who  have  heard  her  there  in  the 
Baie  des  Trepasses,  the  witch,  even  since  the  Pardon 
filled  Brittany  with  holy  song  and  sweet  singers,  and  I 
myself  have  heard  and  seen  strange  things,  Mam'selle, 
on  stormy  nights  here  by  the  sea. " 

They  left  him  there  with  his  songs  and  his  visions  and 
walked  home  even  more  silently  than  they  had  come. 
But  the  face  of  the  man  was  very  happy,  and  the  face  of 
the  girl  was  very  sweet.  This  was  another  thing  of  which 
they  would  not  talk  to  their  fellow-travellers,  another  gift 
from  Brittany  to  the  two.  She  was  doing  her  best  for 
them,  this  rock-ribbed  land  —  bringing  them  together 
in  her  own  way. 

Belinda  did  her  duty  by  every  one,  that  evening,  a 


LAURA  MAY   BLOCKS  THE   GAME      259 

spasm  of  conscientiousness  following  her  hours  of  free- 
dom, as  it  always  did.  And  Courtney,  conscious  that 
he  had  treated  Amelia  in  cavalier  fashion  and  with  no 
smallest  idea  that  she  had  been  calling  down  blessings 
on  his  head  for  giving  her  Belinda's  place  in  Monsieur 
de  Fontanges's  car,  tried  to  atone  for  his  rudeness  by  an 
evening  of  devotion.  He  was  happy  and  all  who  saw 
might  read  that  truth;  but  Laura  May  read  that  being 
with  Amelia  again  was  responsible  for  his  happiness 
and  she  went  to  her  room  that  night  bent  upon  confidences. 

"  Being  engaged  is  just  the  sweetest  thing  in  the  world," 
she  announced  as  she  took  the  hairpins  out  of  her  hair. 
"Doesn't  it  seem  wonderful  that  I've  found  the  abso- 
lutely perfect  man  we  used  to  talk  about  at  school  ? " 

She  shook  her  hair  out  over  her  shoulders,  watching 
Amelia  for  a  sign  of  dissent,  and  smiled  when  she  saw  a 
little  curl  of  skepticism  about  her  friend's  lips.  Amelia 
had  her  own  ideas  about  a  perfect  man. 

"If  you'd  only  find  your  ideal  now  and  be  as  happy 
as  I  am,  everything  would  be  simply  perfect.  I  do  so 
want  you  to  be  in  love,  too  —  really  in  love,  you  know. 
Not  Tommy  and  Fred  Watkins  and  silly  things  like  that. 
It's  kind  of  solemn  and  different  when  you  are  really  in 
love." 

Amelia  opened  her  mouth  impulsively  —  and  shut  it 
again.  She  mustn't  tell  Laura  May.  The  Count  had 
said  so,  but  it  would  be  so  lovely  to  talk  to  somebody 


260  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

about  him.  That  was  half  the  fun  of  being  in  love  — 
telling  one's  most  intimate  friend  about  it. 

She  sighed  —  a  long  plaintive  sigh  that  encouraged 
Laura  May  to  return  to  the  charge. 

"Of  course  you'll  tell  me,  Amelia,  whenever  you  do 
find  your  ideal.  You  know  we  vowed,  and  I  told  you  all 
about  everything  just  as  fast  as  it  happened.  I  wouldn't 
have  felt  honest  if  I  hadn't." 

Amelia  revolved  the  proposition  in  her  mind.  She 
had  vowed.  She  remembered  distinctly  when  they  had 
done  it,  up  in  Laura  May's  room  in  school,  the  night 
they  spilled  the  fudge  all  over  the  carpet.  And  it  was 
wicked  to  break  a  solemn  vow. 

But  Bertrand  (she  always  blushed  when  she  thought 
of  him  by  his  first  name.  Sometimes  it  seemed  as  if 
she'd  never  be  able  to  call  a  count  "  Bertie "  even  after 
she  was  married  to  him)  had  been  so  firm  about  the  secret. 
If  he  really  knew  Laura  May  he  wouldn't  feel  that  way. 
She  was  splendid  at  keeping  secrets. 

"It's  been  such  a  comfort  to  talk  to  you  about  him" 
Laura  May  said  fervently. 

Amelia  could  understand  that.  She  yearned  to  talk 
about  her  him,  and  when  girls  had  on  their  dressing  gowns 
and  were  braiding  their  hair  it  was  such  a  splendid  time 
for  talking  about  lovers  and  all  that  sort  of  thing. 

"You  wouldn't  tell  Lord  Bantholme  if  I  confided  in 
you  about  something,  would  you?"  she  asked.  Laura 


LAURA   MAY   BLOCKS   THE   GAME      261 

May's  face  expressed  hurt  surprise  —  sorrow  rather  than 
anger. 

"Why,  Amelia!"  she  said  in  accents  of  profound 
reproach. 

Her  friend  apologized  promptly. 

"Oh,  I  was  sure  you  wouldn't;  but  when  girls  are 
engaged  and  married  they  do  seem  to  tell  things  more." 

"  Of  course,  I  tell  him  all  my  own  secrets,"  Laura  May 
acknowledged  solemnly.  "I  think  that's  my  duty.  I've 
lold  him  every  blessed  thing,  Amelia,  even  about 
Carter  Lindsay.  He  was  perfectly  lovely  about  it  all. 
I  know  it  must  have  hurt  him,  but  he  forgave  me.  He 
thought  he  was  in  love  once,  too  —  with  a  vicar's  daughter 
—  but  he  was  only  sixteen  then.  He  doesn't  seem  to 
have  had  anything  to  do  with  girls  since  then.  But  I 
wouldn't  think  of  telling  him  anything  you  confided  to 
me.  Do  tell  me,  that's  a  darling." 

Amelia  sat  down 'on  the  bed,  the  great  secret  shining 
in  her  face  and  waiting  at  her  lips. 

"I  can't  tell  you  all  about  it.  There's  a  reason  why 
I  can't.  Will  you  promise  you  won't  ask  any  questions  ?  " 

Laura  May  promised. 

"  Cross  your  heart  ?  " 

She  crossed  her  heart. 

"I'm  engaged  myself!" 

"Oh,  Amelia!" 

The  two  girls  fell  into  each  other's  arms. 


262  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

"It's  perfectly  lovely!"  gurgled  Laura  May.  "Are 
you  awfully  in  love  with  him  ?" 

Amelia  rolled  her  eyes  toward  heaven. 

"I'm  crazy  about  him." 

"Well,  he's  splendid  and  I'm  just  as  glad  as  I  can  be, 
but  why  don't  you 

"You  promised  not  to  ask  questions  and  I  can't  tell 
you  a  single  thing  more.  We  aren't  going  to  tell  any- 
body until  just  before  we  sail,  and  I  mustn't  even  talk 
about  it  for  fear  I'd  forget  and  say  something  I  oughtn't 
to;  but  I  had  to  tell  you.  I  couldn't  keep  it  from  you 
a  minute  longer." 

There  was  a  tap  at  the  door  and  Belinda  entered  on 
the  trail  of  cold  cream.  When  she  left,  Laura  May 
went  with  her  to  bring  the  cold  cream  back. 

"I've  got  to  daub  it  all  over  my  face  to-night,"  she 
explained.  "I'm  so  burned  I  can't  laugh." 

Once  in  Belinda's  room,  she  seized  the  chaperon's 
hands  and  her  great  news  came  out  with  a  plop : 

"Amelia's  engaged  to  Mr.  Courtney!"  she  announced. 

Belinda  looked  incredulous. 

"You   see  engagements   on   every   bush,    my    dear." 

"But  she's  just  told  me  about  it!" 

"Oh!"  It  was  a  queer  little  "Oh,"  full  of  many 
things  beside  surprise,  but  Laura  May  had  no  ear  for 
subtle  inflections  and  swept  on  with  her  story. 

"They're  awfully   happy,    and   I  think  it's  perfectly 


LAURA  MAY  BLOCKS  THE  GAME       263 

gorgeous,  but  they  aren't  going  to  tell  anybody  until  the 
trip's  over.  I  reckon  they're  waiting  for  answers  to  the 
letters  they've  written  her  father.  You  won't  breathe  it, 
will  you,  Miss  Carewe?  I  promised  I  wouldn't  tell 
Roderick,  but  I  didn't  promise  about  you.  It  was  sort 
of  understood,  though,  and  I  oughtn't  to  have  told  you, 
only  I  was  just  bursting  with  it,  and  I  knew  you'd  be  so 
interested.  You  won't  tell  ?" 

"No,"    Belinda    promised    quietly.     "I    won't    tell." 

She  didn't  seem  to  be  as  excited  as  the  occasion  war- 
ranted. Laura  May  was  disappointed  in  her. 

"  Don't  you  think  it's  fine  ?  "  the  girl  asked. 

"I  suppose  it  is,  since  they  are  happy.  Run  along  to 
bed,  dear." 


CHAPTER  FOURTEEN 

JACK     COURTNEY     DEVELOPS     AN     UNSUSPECTED     PASSION 
FOR   ART 

THE  electric  lights  on  the  Place  de  la  Concorde  hung 
like  globes  of  palest  amethyst,  in  the  fast-fading  daylight, 
when  three  motor  cars,  white  with  dust,  whirled  down 
the  Champs  Elysees,  crossed  the  Place,  and  made  their 
way  to  the  little  hotel  on  the  Rue  Ste.  Anne  where  rooms 
were  waiting  for  "Miss  Care  we  and  party  of  seven." 

Belinda  groaned  in  spirit  as  she  mentioned  the  fact  of 
those  reservations  to  the  obsequious  commissionaire  who 
welcomed  them. 

Yes;  the  party  of  seven  was  hers  once  more,  now  that 
she  was  in  Paris.  Her  holiday  was  over. 

Even  in  Touraine  and  Brittany  she  had  soothed  and 
coddled  and  advised;  but,  at  least,  she  had  not  paid  bills. 
Human  nature  she  could  manage,  but  fractions  were  too 
much  for  her;  and  her  only  consolation  as  she  once 
more  bent  her  back  to  her  burden,  was  a  realization 
that  she  was  in  the  land  of  the  decimal  system. 

"Perhaps  I  can  do  it  in  francs,"  she  said  to  herself 
encouragingly. 

264 


A   PASSION    FOR   ART  265 

"Multiplying  and  dividing  by  ten  isn't  so  bad  as  some 
things." 

Monsieur  de  Fontanges  and  Count  de  Brissac  said 
their  good-byes  at  the  door.  To  be  more  exact,  they 
said  "aw  revoir." 

"For  is  it  not  that  we  are  engaged  as  official  guides  to 
Paris?"  De  Fontanges  asked,  his  gay  buoyancy  unim- 
paired by  the  parting. 

"To-morrow  you  dine  with  me  at  Armenonville.  Then 
we  will  plan  excursions.  It  is  only  the  little  expeditions 
to  the  country  that  are  charming  now.  The  town  is  dead. 
One  gives  it  over  to  tourists." 

"Baedeker  seems  to  think  that  we  can  keep  busy 
right  here  in  town,"  Mrs.  Bagby  remarked. 

"With  the  museums,  the  galleries,  the  tombs,  dear 
lady?  If  you  will,  yes.  We  Parisians  have  not  the 
fancy  for  such  gaieties.  At  Fontainebleau,  at  St.  Ger- 
main, at  Meudon  there  is  history,  if  one  must  have  history; 
but,  providentially,  there  are  also  famous  restaurants 
where  one  may  have  al  fresco  dinners  that  do  not  smell 
of  asphalt.  Me,  I  prefer  always  to  have  my  history 
served  in  this  fashion.  It  makes  for  good  digestion  of 
facts  and  dates." 

"We  have  to  shop,  you  know."  Laura  May  was  not 
keen  about  history  save  as  she  intended  making  a  little 
of  it  herself  when  she  could  introduce  her  home  town 
to  a  Paris  trousseau. 


266  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

"I  really  won't  have  time  to  be  improved  much,  Miss 
Carewe  —  my  mind,  I  mean.  Of  course,  I  know  a  French 
dressmaker  will  do  lots  for  my  figure." 

"Oh,  well,"  Amelia  reminded  her,  "England  isn't  far 
from  Paris.  You  can  come  over  here  'most  any  time 
and  learn  about  Marie  Antoinette  and  Napoleon,  but 
you'll  need  your  clothes  in  October.  I  wouldn't  waste 
any  time  on  unimportant  things  if  I  were  you.  Fittings 
always  take  hours,  and  hats  are  simply  awful.  You  have 
to  wear  a  hat  until  you  get  used  to  it  before  you  can  decide 
whether  you  want  to  buy  it  or  not.  I'm  going  to  buy 
four  hats,  and  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  it  would  take  me 
two  solid  days." 

"But  in  the  afternoon  when  the  coolness  comes,  you  will 
need  relaxation  from  so  serious  a  strain,  Mademoiselle," 
Monsieur  de  Fontanges  said  with  polite  gravity. 

"It  is  then  that  we  will  have  our  history  and  our  little 
dinners." 

The  two  Frenchmen  went  away;  and,  when  they  had 
gone,  Mr.  Perkins  turned  into  the  hotel,  with  an  audible 
sigh  of  relief. 

"A  most  intrusive  person,  that  old  gentleman  with 
the  absurd  hair,"  he  said  scathingly.  "But,  at  least,  we 
will  not  have  to  meet  him  at  the  breakfast  table  from  now 
on." 

"There  are  very  few  men  who  are  endurable  at  the 
breakfast  table." 


A   PASSION   FOR   ART  267 

Mrs.  Bagby's  tone  was  cool  and  her  appraising  glance 
at  Mr.  Perkins  suggested  that  he  was  not  one  of  the  rare 
exceptions. 

Personal  conducting  in  Paris  reminded  Belinda  of  the 
Pontaven  gavotte.  Or,  at  least,  it  would  have  reminded 
her  of  the  gavotte,  if  that  Breton  dance  had  not  been 
altogether  too  inconsequential  even  to  furnish  a  com- 
parison. 

She  had  lost  interest  in  folk-dances,  and  in  folk-songs, 
and  in  Jack  Courtney. 

Not  since  one  happy  afternoon  on  the  coast  of  Finistere 
had  that  unlucky  man  succeeded  in  having  a  moment 
alone  with  her.  She  hedged  herself  round  with  duties 
when  she  was  not  with  Count  de  Brissac,  was  never  at 
liberty,  never  without  some  one  of  the  party  beside  her. 
Scheming  and  plotting  were  all  in  vain.  He  laid  his 
plans  and  she  checkmated  them  at  the  first  move. 

"What  have  I  done?"  he  asked  miserably  when, 
that  first  morning  after  he  and  she  had  listened  to  the 
Song  Man  among  the  rocks  and  heather,  he  met  her  and 
found  that  she  had  no  welcome  for  him. 

She  had  looked  politely  surprised.  "Done?"  she 
echoed.  "Why  nothing.  What  could  you  have  done?" 

That  was  just  it.  What  could  he  have  done?  She 
had  been  so  close,  so  kind,  so  childishly  sweet  —  and  now, 
over  night,  she  had  climbed  her  pedestal  again  and  was 
so  cold,  so  womanly  cruel.  Yet  between  stages  he  had 


268  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

done  nothing  except  sleep  and  dream  of  her.  He  had 
had  no  opportunity  for  offense. 

For  a  while  he  puzzled.  Then  he  gave  the  riddle  up. 
There  was  neither  rhyme  nor  reason  in  her  mood.  She 
was  heartless  and  a  flirt.  He  told  himself  that  on  an 
average  of  twice  every  five  minutes;  told  himself,  too, 
that  it  was  a  matter  of  profound  indifference  to  him 
whether  she  married  a  rascally  foreign  count  or  not.  Let 
her  flirt  with  De  Brissac.  He  would  show  her  that  she 
couldn't  hurt  him  by  doing  it. 

And,  forthwith,  he  proceeded  to  devote  himself  to 
Amelia  with  an  ardour  which  amazed  that  Young  Person, 
delighted  Laura  May's  sentimental  heart  and  caused 
Monsieur  de  Fontanges  an  occasional  qualm  of  uneasi- 
ness. 

"He  doesn't  even  try  to  hide  his  feelings  any  more," 
Laura  May  said  to  Belinda,  "but  Amelia's  too  queer 
for  anything  about  it  all.  She  won't  let  me  talk  to  her 
about  her  engagement  and  she  hasn't  told  me  a  thing 
since  that  first  night.  It  doesn't  seem  a  bit  like  her. 
Why,  she  used  to  keep  me  up  all  night  confiding  in 
me/ 

In  her  capacity  of  chaperon,  Belinda  worried  about 
the  situation,  and  if  only  the  chaperon  in  her  had  been 
concerned,  she  would  probably  have  wheedled  Amelia 
into  telling  her  secret;  but,  for  some  reason  or  other, 
she  felt  a  mighty  distaste  for  interference  with  the  love 


A  PASSION   FOR  ART  269 

affair.  In  three  weeks,  the  whole  party  would  be  in 
New  York.  Then  Amelia  and  her  father  could  have 
things  out;  and,  in  the  meantime,  she  would  simply  keep 
the  girl  busy  and  see  that  she  behaved  properly.  Omni- 
science could  not  be  expected  of  any  chaperon. 

It  was  easy  enough  to  keep  Amelia  busy.  The  days 
were  full,  pressed  down  and  running  over,  and  Belinda 
came  as  near  achieving  the  feat  of  being  in  two  places  at 
one  time  as  is  consistent  with  the  irrefutable  laws  of 
matter.  Not  a  pair  of  gloves  would  the  prospective 
bride  buy,  not  a  fitting  would  she  have,  not  a  debated 
point  of  colour  or  line  or  trimming  would  she  decide  unless 
personally  conducted,  and  Belinda  swung  from  relics  of 
the  French  Revolution  to  net  dancing-frocks  and  from 
pink  silk  stockings  to  Puvis  de  Chavannes  frescoes  with 
a  giddy  momentum  that  made  her  dizzy. 

"Laura  May  talks  trousseau  in  her  sleep,"  she  said 
to  Mrs.  Nicholson.  "It's  mixed  up  with  everything  we 
do  and  see.  My  brain  is  topsy  turvy  with  it.  We  were 
standing  at  Napoleon's  tomb  this  morning  and  Laura 
May  clutched  my  arm.  I  thought  she  was  actually 
having  a  thrill  of  emotion  over  the  tomb,  but  bless  your 
heart,  no.  She  decided  to  have  her  dinner  frock  amber  — 
just  the  'sweet  shade'  that  the  stained  glass  was  throw- 
ing on  the  sarcophagus." 

She  laughed  helplessly. 

"It's  an  obsession,  and  I'll  soon  be  as  bad  as  she  is," 


270  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

she  confessed.  "I'm  beginning  to  translate  everything 
into  satin  and  chiffon  and  lace.  I  can't  see  a  bed  of 
flowers  without  wondering  how  they  would  trim  a  hat, 
and  the  stone  carvings  all  look  like  soutache  embroidery, 
and  the  Seine  is  just  the  gray  blue  for  a  travelling  costume 
and  the  Champs  Elysees  isn't  anything  in  the  world  but 
a  beige  panel  down  the  front  of  a  foliage-green  princess 
frock.  It's  awful.  My  reason  is  tottering.  If  it  weren't 
for  the  motoring  when  Laura  May  is  in  the  other  car  I'd 
not  have  a  lucid  interval." 

There  was,  fortunately,  a  good  deal  of  the  motoring. 
Early  every  morning  the  Earl's  two  cars  arrived,  snort- 
ing, at  the  hotel  door,  and  they  were  in  commission  all 
through  the  day  and,  often,  far  into  the  night. 

"You've  brought  the  trousseau  curse  upon  me,  wretched 
young  man,"  Belinda  said  sternly  to  the  happy  lover. 
"But  I'll  admit  that  your  cars  do  to  some  extent  offset  the 
havoc  your  beaux  yeux  have  wrought.  There  are 
moments  when  I  feel  that  I  can  forgive  you." 

Those  moments  were  likely  to  arrive  in  the  late  after- 
noon, when  one  of  the  little  expeditions  which  Monsieur 
de  Fontanges  had  recommended  and  which  he  planned, 
day  after  day,  sent  the  party  on  a  country  flight  to  some 
delightful  spot  where  ghosts  walked  and  where  a  delicious 
dinner  was  waiting  on  a  cool  terrace  or  in  a  shadowy 
garden.  Sometimes  when  Laura  May  and  Amelia  could 
be  induced  to  spend  a  whole  day  without  shopping,  they 


A  PASSION   FOR   ART  271 

journeyed  farther  afield;  or  perhaps  the  cars  were  left 
in  the  garage  and  a  motor  boat  requisitioned  for  a  trip 
along  the  Seine  or  the  Marne.  And  always  there  was 
the  coming  back  through  night  shadows  and  green  silences 
to  a  fairy  city  of  thick-clustering  jewelled  lights  and  music 
and  laughter — an  awakened  Paris;  for,  even  in  August, 
Paris  wakes  with  the  coming  of  night  and  sings  a  siren 
song. 

Oddly  enough,  it  was  Mrs.  Bagby  in  whose  ears  the 
song  sounded  most  alluringly.  Belinda,  like  a  righteous 
chaperon,  censored  evening  amusements  with  a  ruthless 
hand  and  took  the  girls  to  the  hotel  at  something  approach- 
ing a  reasonable  hour;  but  Mrs.  Bagby  asserted  her 
right  to  life,  liberty  and  the  pursuit  of  happiness.  She 
ate  late  suppers  in  companies  mixed  as  only  Paris  can 
mix  its  night  crowds.  She  sat  through  cafe  chantant 
performances  whose  French  was  fortunately  Greek  to 
her.  She  asked  embarrassing  questions  with  a  calm 
which  struck  joy  into  the  soul  of  Monsieur  de  Fontanges 
and  brought  Mr.  Perkins  to  the  verge  of  nervous  collapse, 
and  she  did  it  all  with  the  same  cheerful  impersonal 
interest  she  would  have  accorded  to  a  new  variety  of 
bird  or  beast. 

"I  came  out  to  see  Europe,"  she  explained  serenely, 
"and  I'm  going  to  look  at  it  now  I'm  here.  I  guess  that 
after  sixty  years  of  Parkersville,  my  morals  ought  to 
be  set,  if  they're  ever  going  to  be,  and  there's  no  use 


272  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

dodging  everything  that  doesn't  look  like  a  meeting  of 
the  Baptist  sewing  circle." 

"But,  my  dear  Mrs.  Bagby,  one  can't  touch  pitch  and 
not  —  "  began  Mr.  Perkins,  but  she  interrupted  him. 

"Now  I'm  not  calculating  to  touch  pitch.  I'm  study- 
ing human  nature,  and  I  don't  know  as  it's  any  pitchier 
in  Paris  than  it  is  in  Parkersville,  only  there's  more 
of  it  here,  and  it's  more  amusing  to  look  at.  You  stay 
right  at  home,  Mr.  Perkins,  if  you  can't  trust  your  mind 
and  your  morals;  but  I'm  not  getting  a  bit  more  harm 
out  of  Paris  than  I  would  out  of  any  real  lively  zoo." 

But  he  didn't  stay  at  home.  He  went  along.  So 
did  Miss  Perkins  and  Mrs.  Nicholson.  A  person  of 
determined  character  is  a  great  boon  to  the  timid. 

"We  really  can't  allow  her  to  go  about  alone  with  the 
gentlemen,"  Miss  Perkins  carefully  explained  to  Belinda. 
"I  feel  that  it  is  my  duty  to  sacrifice  my  scruples,  since 
she  will  go." 

"It's  like  taking  the  only  child  in  the  family  to  the 
circus.  Pity  you  three  aren't  old  enough  to  feel  respon- 
sible for  the  giddy  creature,"  Courtney  said  to  Belinda 
and  the  girls. 

Amelia  groaned  responsively. 

"This  being  young  in  Paris  is  terrible.  If  it  weren't 
for  the  shops,  I'd  almost  rather  not  have  come  until  I 
was  married  or  so  old  everybody 'd  know  I  was  proper. 
But  we're  having  a  lovely  time  buying  clothes,  anyway, 


A   PASSION    FOR   ART  273 

and  the  saleswomen  are  awfully  entertaining.  They 
tell  us  who  all  the  people  are  —  the  people  who  come  in 
to  choose  frocks  or  be  fitted,  you  know  —  and  all  about 
them.  There's  usually  lots  about  them,  isn't  there, 
Laura  May?  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  we  know  a  good 
deal  more  about  the  actresses  Mrs.  Bagby  has  seen  than 
she  does." 

"Amelia!"  The  chaperon's  tone  was  sternly  disap- 
proving. 

"Well,  Miss  Carewe,  you  couldn't  expect  us  not  to 
listen.  You'd  be  interested  yourself  if  we  weren't  with 
you,  but  they  never  talk  when  you're  there.  You're 
doing  your  best  to  make  Paris  like  a  Sunday  School  pic- 
nic for  us;  so  nobody  can  blame  you  if  somebody  goes 
and  puts  champagne  in  the  lemonade,  and  I  always  did 
like  punchy  kinds  of  lemonade." 

There  was,  figuratively  speaking,  more  or  less  cham- 
pagne in  most  of  the  Carewe  party's  lemonade  during 
those  Paris  days,  for  one  can  be  gay  in  and  around  Paris 
even  in  August,  and  only  the  Parisian  realizes  that  the 
town  is  dead  then.  Madame  de  Lorgeville  was  in  the 
city,  more  beautiful,  more  exquisitely  gowned  than  ever, 
and  apparently  quite  as  much  interested  in  Belinda  and 
the  girls  as  she  had  been  at  the  Carlton.  They  saw  her 
at  Armenonville  on  the  very  first  evening  of  their  stay 
in  Paris,  and  Amelia,  who  was  the  first  to  recognize  her, 
turned  excitedly  to  Count  de  Brissac. 


274  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

"There's  your  cousin  —  at  the  little  table  under  the 
tree.  Isn't  she  lovely?  Why  don't  you  go  and  speak 
to  her?" 

It  occurred  to  Courtney  that  the  Count  was  not  over- 
joyed at  seeing  his  kinswoman.  For  an  instant  there 
was  a  frown  of  annoyance  on  his  face;  but  it  disappeared 
quickly  and  he  answered  Madame  de  Lorgeville's  smile 
by  a  most  impressive  bow  and  a  friendly  wave  of  the 
hand.  Later  he  strolled  across  to  her  table  and  stood 
there  for  a  few  moments  laughing  and  talking. 

"She's  like  a  French  charmer  in  a  book,"  Laura  May 
said  rapturously.  "If  he'd  only  bring  her  over  and 
introduce  her  to  us ! " 

Lord  Bantholme  made  a  gesture  of  dissent. 

"Better  shut  the  book,"  he  said  curtly. 

After  that  evening  they  saw  her  here,  there  and  every- 
where, always  radiantly  lovely,  always  surrounded  by 
adoring  men,  always  with  the  frequent  side  glances  for 
her  cousin  and  his  friends;  and,  at  last  one  evening,  in 
the  garden  of  the  Madrid  she  quietly  waited  for  the  Count 
as  he  piloted  his  party  to  a  table,  and  was  introduced  to 
every  one  save  Monsieur  de  Fontanges,  who  was  evidently 
an  old  friend.  She  made  herself  altogether  agreeable, 
charming  to  a  degree  that  reduced  Amelia  and  Laura 
May  to  speechless  admiration,  and  she  lingered  until 
the  cloud  on  the  face  of  the  escort  who  sat  at  his  table 
waiting  for  her  had  assumed  appalling  proportions;  but 


They  saw  her  at  Armenonville 


A   PASSION   FOR   ART  275 

at  last  she  scattered  farewell  smiles  and  trailed  across 
the  garden  to  her  own  table,  with  De  Brissac  at  her  side. 

"So  this  is  the  quiet  visit  in  Touraine,  mon  ami?"  she 
said  with  a  smile  not  quite  so  pleasant  as  those  of  which 
Amelia  was  at  the  moment  raving. 

"You  see  I,  too,  have  abandoned  Trouville  and  amuse 
myself." 

He  was  scowling  when  he  rejoined  his  friends,  and  the 
wrinkle  between  his  brows  returned  whenever,  during 
the  evening,  he  met  the  Frenchwoman's  understanding, 
mocking  eyes. 

The  trousseau  was  harvested,  sights  set  down  in  Bae- 
deker as  essential  to  tourist's  salvation  were  disposed  of 
one  by  one,  Mrs.  Bagby's  curiosity  about  Parisian  human 
nature  was  approximately  satisfied,  and,  two  days  before 
sailing  date,  only  the  Louvre  and  the  packing  remained 
to  disturb  the  conscience  of  the  Personal  Conductor. 

The  Louvre  had  been  left  to  the  last  by  general  consent. 

"There's  so  much  of  it,"  Laura  May  had  said  with  a 
weary  air.  "It  seems  to  me  we'd  better  do  everything 
else  and  then  take  just  as  much  of  the  Louvre  as  we've 
got  room  left  for.  That  isn't  such  very  good  English, 
Miss  Carewe,  but  you  know  what  I  mean.  I  don't 
believe  I've  left  any  place  for  pictures  and  statues  in  my 
brain  pigeon-holes.  They're  all  full  of  dinner  menus 
and  embroidered  buttons  and  willow  ostrich  plumes  and 
things  like  that;  but  I've  got  Marie  Antoinette's  farm 


276  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

and  Napoleon's  tomb  and  the  other  sights  down  in  my 
diary,  and  I'm  going  to  buy  photographs  of  them  all,  so 
maybe  they'll  come  back  to  me  after  I'm  married  and 
haven't  so  much  to  think  about.  It's  nice  to  know  I've 
seen  them  anyway.  I've  always  felt  as  if  no  girl  ought 
to  get  married  until  after  she'd  seen  Europe,  and  my 
wedding  gown  is  such  a  dream  that  it  makes  up  for  the 
Rhine  and  all  the  dull  things,  but  I  don't  seem  to  care 
very  much  about  the  Louvre." 

However,  Belinda  was  firm.  She  did  not  intend  to 
face  Margaret  Barnes  and  confess  that  she  had  allowed 
seven  personally  conducted  tourists  to  escape  the  Louvre; 
so  she  planned  a  descent  upon  that  treasure-house  of  art 
for  the  last  morning  before  their  departure  from  Paris. 
She  had  to  go  to  the  bank  and  the  steamer  office  herself 
that  morning  and  wanted  to  make  a  hasty  call  upon  the 
old  French  dame  with  whom  she  had  boarded  during  her 
first  visit  to  Paris,  but  she  planned  to  start  out  early  and 
go  directly  to  the  Louvre  after  her  call,  meeting  her  party 
there  at  eleven  o'clock. 

No  one  looked  ecstatic  when  the  programme  was 
announced  and  Courtney,  noticing  the  general  lack  of 
enthusiasm,  conceived  a  brilliant  idea.  He  would  incite 
his  fellow-travellers  to  riot  and  rebellion  and  have  one  more 
hour  alone  with  Belinda  before  the  European  tour  ended, 
in  spite  of  all  that  haughty  young  person's  objections  to 
such  a  tete-a-tete. 


A   PASSION   FOR   ART  277 

He  began  with  Mrs.  Bagby  and  told  her  frankly  that 
he  wanted  her  out  of  the  way.  She  twinkled  at  him 
appreciatively. 

"Son,  I  had  an  engagement  with  a  wild  ass,  at  the 
Jardin  des  Plantes,  anyway.  I  missed  him,  when  I 
went  there  before;  but  he's  down  in  Baedeker,  and  when 
I  read  about  a  '  wild  ass  of  the  desert '  in  my  Bible,  I  want 
to  know  what  it  looks  like.  I'd  much  rather  get  acquainted 
with  a  wild  ass  than  with  the  Venus  de  Milo  and  I'll  just 
take  the  Perkins  family  along  to  meet  him." 

"Well,  don't  mention  your  change  of  plans  to  Miss 
Carewe  before  she  goes  out.  It  won't  make  any  difference 
to  her,  you  know,  whether  we  all  meet  her  or  not." 

"Not  a  bit,"  agreed  Mrs.  Bagby.  "I  don't  know  what 
it's  all  about,  boy,  but  you  have  my  blessing." 

Not  until  after  Belinda  had  disappeared  bankwards 
did  Courtney  announce  to  Laura  May  and  Amelia  that 
there  was  to  be  a  wedding  at  the  Madeleine  at  eleven. 

"Bourgeois  affair,"  he  admitted,  "but  a  big  one. 
They'll  all  go  for  a  drive  and  have  breakfast  out  in  the 
Bois,  and  do  the  regular  French  wedding  stunts.  You'd 
better  get  Banty  to  take  you  to  the  wedding  and  follow 
on  their  trail." 

"But  Miss  Carewe "  began  the  girls. 

"Oh,  just  leave  a  note  for  her.  I'll  take  it  to  her.  She 
won't  care  so  long  as  you're  doing  something  you  like 
better  than  Louvre." 


278  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

They  were  easily  persuaded,  and  his  aunt  Florilla, 
when  he  explained  to  her  that  she  was  too  tired  to  look 
at  pictures  and  must  save  herself  for  the  next  day's  trip, 
admitted  the  truth  of  the  proposition  without  a  murmur. 

"  But  don't  say  anything  to  the  others  about  it,  dear," 
she  urged.  "Some  one  might  feel  that  she  ought  to 
stay  with  me.  Just  explain  nicely  to  Miss  Carewe  when 
you  meet  her." 

He  promised  that  he  would. 

So,  when  Belinda,  flushed  and  showing  evidence  of 
having  hurried,  arrived  in  the  Salon  Carre,  ten  minutes 
after  the  hour,  and  looked  around  for  the  accusing  faces 
of  the  party  she  had  kept  waiting,  only  Jack  Courtney 
stepped  forward  to  meet  her. 

"  Where  are  the  others  ?  "  she  asked. 

"I'm  afraid  none  of  them  are  coming." 

He  looked  serious,  even  a  trifle  pained  by  the  defection 
of  his  friends. 

"They  didn't  seem  to  be  very  keen  about  the  Louvre. 
Mrs.  Bagby  and  the  Perkins  wanted  to  bid  a  last  tender 
farewell  to  a  wild  ass,  and  Aunt  Florilla  wasn't  quite 
well,  and  Banty  carried  the  girls  off  to  a  wedding.  You 
couldn't  expect  anything  to  stand  between  Miss  Lee  and 
a  wedding.  They  all  asked  me  to  explain  to  you,  and 
I've  got  a  note  somewhere  from  the  girls.  It  seems  a 
beastly  shame,  though,  for  any  one  to  miss  the  Louvre, 
doesn't  it?" 


A   PASSION    FOR   ART  279 

He  was  hunting  through  his  pockets  for  the  note  and  he 
met  Belinda's  suspicious  scrutiny  with  a  frank  and  inno- 
cent face  that  would  have  done  credit  to  the  celestial  choir. 

"It's  very  queer,  none  of  them  said  anything  to  me 
about  their  plans." 

"Oh,  I  fancy  they  all  made  up  their  minds  at  the  last 
minute,"  he  said  airily.  "Messages  rained  on  me,  just 
as  I  was  ready  to  start  out." 

"You  were  very  kind  to  come  and  tell  me.  Don't  let 
me  detain  you  now.  I'll  go  back  to  the  hotel  and  pack." 

He  looked  at  her  in  hurt  surprise. 

"And  the  gallery  ?"  he  asked. 

"You  don't  want  to  see  the  pictures,  Mr.  Courtney?" 

"I'd  rather  have  missed  anything  else  in  Europe.  I've 
been  looking  forward  to  this  ever  since  we  reached  Paris." 

Just  what  the  "this"  to  which  he  had  looked  forward 
might  be,  was  not  quite  clear,  but  presumably  he  meant 
the  Louvre. 

Belinda  hesitated,  a  suggestion  of  temper  about  her 
mouth  and  eyes. 

"I  hadn't  suspected  you  of  a  passion  for  art,  Mr. 
Courtney,"  she  said  in  a  tone  which  Amelia  would  have 
characterized  as  "  snippy."  But  at  least  you  will  not  need 
any  encouragement  from  me.  I'll  leave  you  to  your 
treat." 

His  hurt  surprise  melted  into  disappointment  and 
reproach. 


280  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

"I'm  a  hopeless  duffer  about  pictures,"  he  confessed 
humbly.  "I  love  them,  but  I've  never  had  a  chance  to 
look  at  them  with  any  one  who  could  tell  me  about  them. 
I've  counted  on  that  privilege  in  this  trip,  but  of  course 
I  don't  want  to  bore  you  or  make  demands  upon  your 
time,  when  you  would  rather  be  doing  something 
else." 

A  sudden  vision  of  his  $1,000  check  rose  before  her 
eyes,  and  helpless  exasperation  rilled  her  soul. 

The  man  had  paid  for  having  the  Louvre  shown  to 
him.  She  would  have  to  stay  and  show  it. 

"I'm  quite  at  your  service,"  she  said,  in  her  most  busi- 
nesslike tone. 

And  then  began  such  a  dissertation  upon  art  as  would 
have  filled  the  heart  of  a  professional  guide  with  awe. 
Since  information  about  pictures  and  artists  was  wanted 
she  would  furnish  it.  Not  a  simpering  madonna,  not  an 
emaciated  saint,  not  a  Susanna  and  the  Elders  nor  a 
Prodigal  Son  did  she  pass  unnoticed.  She  talked  about 
chiaroscuro  and  aerial  perspective  and  luminous  whites 
and  composition  as  fluently  as  though  she  had  known 
what  any  of  them  meant,  and  she  discussed  the  influence 
of  Leonardo  and  the  Italian  school  upon  French  art  in 
a  manner  little  short  of  inspired. 

Courtney  listened  respectfully,  drinking  in  the  words 
of  wisdom  and  waiting  for  the  flood  to  cease. 

They  were  standing  near  a  landscape,  when  she  showed 


A   PASSION   FOR   ART  281 

signs  of  running  down  —  a  stretch  of  gray  rock  and  purple 
heather  and  leaden  sky. 

"Looks  a  little  like  Brittany,"  Courtney  said,  with  a 
nod  toward  the  picture.  "I  was  awfully  happy  in  Brit- 
tany, Miss  Carewe." 

"You'll  be  interested  in  this  Claude  Lorraine.  It's 
a  particularly  fine  example." 

He  wasn't  interested. 

"I  thought  up  there  that  we  were  friends." 

"But  I  can't  say  that  I  care  very  much  about  French 
landscape  before  the  Barbizon  school." 

"And  I  hoped  that  we  wouldn't  drop  back  to  twenty 
degrees  below  acquaintanceship.  Why  did  we  ?" 

"Mr.  Courtney,"  her  tone  was  the  one  with  which 
she  subdued  misbehaviour  in  class,  "  we  came  to  the  Louvre 
to  study  art." 

"My  dear  Miss  Carewe,  you  are  entirely  mistaken. 
I  came  to  the  Louvre  to  tell  you  that  I  was  in  love." 

She  looked  at  him,  with  startled  eyes.  He  was  going  to 
tell  her  about  his  engagement  to  Amelia  and  she  didn't 
want  to  hear  about  it.  She  wouldn't  —  she  couldn't. 
Amelia  could  tell  her.  It  was  Amelia's  place  to  tell  her  — 
not  his. 

"You  can  tell  me  about  that  some  other  time,"  she 
said  hastily.  "It's  nearly  luncheon  time  and  we  haven't 
seen  the  Spanish  pictures.  The  Murillos  here  are  won- 
derful, you  know." 


282  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

"I'm  going  to  tell  you  about  it  now." 

He  looked  very  big  and  determined,  and  absolutely  with- 
out interest  in  Spanish  art.  She  would  have  to  listen  to  him. 

"I'm  fathoms  deep  in  love  and  still  going  down." 

"  Hold  your  breath  and  paddle  with  your  hands.  That's 
what  my  swimming  teacher  always  told  me,"  she  advised 
irreverently.  Better  be  flippant  than  tearful,  and  she 
felt  that  she  must  either  laugh  or  cry.  Perhaps  she  would 
do  both.  A  fit  of  hysterics  over  the  still-life  painting  of 
fish  and  game  which  hung  before  her  would  indicate 
a  highly  sensitive  nature. 

"Don't  laugh  at  me,"  Courtney  was  saying.  "It's 
no  laughing  matter  for  me  now.  I  came  abroad  on  the 
girl's  account.  It  seemed  to  me  that  in  three  months 
I  might  persuade  her  I  was  worth  loving,  but  I've  rather 
foozled  the  thing,  I'm  afraid.  Perhaps  I'm  not  worth 
loving,  but  I  think  more  of  myself  since  I've  found  out 
that  I  can  love  a  woman  this  way." 

He  was  desperately  in  earnest.  She  looked  at  him 
for  a  fleeting  instant,  and  turned  back  to  her  still-life 
with  a  new  hurt  in  her  heart.  The  man  had  actually 
fallen  in  love  with  Amelia.  He  wasn't  marrying  the  girl 
for  her  money,  after  all.  She  wouldn't  have  believed 
that  talking  about  a  pink-and-white  child  like  Amelia 
could  make  a  big  man's  eyes  so  deep  and  soft  and  tender, 
but  the  silly  Dora  things  were  usually  the  ones  who 
succeeded  in  being  tremendously  loved. 


A   PASSION   FOR   ART  283 

She  wanted  to  say  something  properly  sympathetic. 
Since  the  man  wasn't  a  fortune  hunter,  one  ought  to  be 
decent  to  him.  She  must  think  of  something  kind  and 
encouraging  to  say  to  him. 

And  what  she  said  was : 

"That  rabbit's  legs  do  look  so  foolish  and  floppy.  I 
should  think  a  dead  rabbit's  legs  would  be  stiff." 

She  was  just  as  much  surprised  and  distressed 
as  he  could  be,  when  she  heard  herself  saying  it; 
and,  because  she  was  surprised,  she  laughed,  and  then, 
because  she  was  sorry  she  had  laughed,  she  laughed 
again. 

"  Belinda !     Haven't  you  any  heart  at  all  ?  " 

Oh,  he  was  frightfully  hurt.  She  could  tell  that  by 
his  voice.  She  wouldn't  have  dared  to  look  at  him,  for 
she  was  seeing  the  floppy  rabbit  legs  through  a  blurring 
mist,  and,  if  she  hadn't  winked  energetically,  she  wouldn't 
have  seen  them  at  all. 

But,  just  because  he  was  in  love  with  a  girl  whom  she 
was  chaperoning  was  no  reason  why  he  should  call  her 
Belinda.  She  would  certainly  tell  him  that  as  soon  as 
her  throat  stopped  squeezing  her  voice,  but  she  didn't 
have  a  chance. 

"At  last  I  find  you!" 

Belinda  heard  a  muffled  exclamation  from  Courtney, 
bestowed  one  last,  violent  wink  upon  the  rabbit,  and 
turned  to  greet  Monsieur  de  Fontanges. 


284  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

"But  the  others?"  that  smiling  gentleman  asked, 
after  an  inquiring  look  around  the  gallery. 

"Deserters  all,"  Belinda  said,  with  a  snapshot  attempt 
at  gaiety. 

"The  young  ladies  and  Lord  Bantholme  —  yes,  I 
understood  that.  We  met  them  on  the  Boulevard  and 
De  Brissac  has  gone  with  them  in  pursuit  of  a  wedding 
party.  But  I  was  told  that  all  of  our  other  friends  were 
at  the  Louvre." 

"Every  one  save  Mr.  Courtney  failed  me." 

The  Frenchman  looked  eloquent  apology  at  Courtney. 
He  was  the  last  man  who  would  willingly  have  interfered 
with  another  man's  game,  when  that  game  in  no  way 
affected  his  own. 

"We  were  all  to  lunch  together  at  St.  Germain,  you 
remember.  I  figured  that  the  hour  had  almost  arrived 
and  that  I  would  join  you  here." 

"Come  back  to  the  hotel  with  us,  and  we  will  pick  up 
the  rest  of  the  crowd." 

Belinda's  invitation  was  cordial.  She  felt  grateful  to 
the  little  man  for  coming  to  her  rescue;  but  Courtney 
did  not  speak  on  the  way  to  the  hotel. 


CHAPTER  FIFTEEN 

AN   ELOPEMENT   CLEARS   THE   AIR 

THAT  farewell  luncheon  at  the  Henri  Quatre  was  not 
a  gay  affair,  in  spite  of  Monsieur  de  Fontanges's  able 
efforts  to  make  it  go  merrily. 

Jack  Courtney  hadn't  a  word  to  throw  to  a  dog.  Laura 
May  and  Lord  Bantholme,  overwhelmed  by  the  thought 
of  a  month's  separation,  gazed  at  each  other  mournfully 
and  forgot  to  eat.  Belinda  was  subdued,  though  she  made 
occasional  efforts  to  do  her  conversational  duty.  Amelia 
seemed  nervous  and  worried,  and  Count  de  Brissac  sat 
silent  with  moody  eyes  and  dissatisfied  mouth. 

"  You  young  people  don't  seem  to  have  stood  the  Paris 
pace  as  well  as  the  old  folks  have,"  Mrs.  Bagby  com- 
mented cheerfully.  "  You  all  look  wore  out.  I  guess  the 
ocean  trip  will  be  a  good  thing  for  you." 

Laura  May  choked  on  the  last  spoonful  of  her  ice,  mur- 
mured excuses,  and  hurriedly  left  the  table,  followed  by 
Lord  Bantholme.  She  was  dabbing  her  eyes  with  her 
handkerchief  as  they  disappeared  along  the  terrace  and 
Banty's  shoulders  had  a  tragic  droop. 

285 


286  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

"It's  because  you  talked  about  the  ocean,"  Amelia 
explained.  "She  says  she  can't  stand  having  it  rolling 
between  them,  and  he's  about  as  bad.  I  shouldn't  wonder 
if  he'd  go  with  us  at  the  last  minute." 

The  party  left  the  table  and  followed  idly  in  the  wake 
of  the  disconsolate  lovers,  until  a  group  of  seats  tempted 
the  older  folk  to  sit  down  and  look  out  over  the  valley  to 
where  Paris  swam  in  a  golden  haze.  Belinda,  lingering 
beside  Mrs.  Nicholson's  chair,  saw  Courtney  coming 
toward  her,  and  looked  about  her  for  a  way  of  escape. 
Count  de  Brissac  was  at  her  elbow  and  she  smiled  into  his 
gloomy  eyes. 

"Is  there  anything  to  see?"  she  asked  invitingly.  He 
caught  at  the  suggestion  with  a  curious,  eager  recklessness. 

"  The  forest  walks  are  beautiful.     Will  you  come  ?  " 

She  went  with  him  and  Courtney,  looking  after  them, 
set  his  teeth  viciously  upon  his  cigar  and  made  a  remark 
which  was  unintelligible  but  appeared  to  afford  him  satis- 
faction. 

Beyond  the  terrace  and  the  palace  grounds,  the  Count 
and  Belinda  turned  into  a  narrow  path  beneath  broad- 
spreading  trees;  and  in  a  few  moments  the  woods  closed 
round  them,  shutting  them  into  a  world  of  flickering  lights 
and  brooding  shadows  where  the  summer  breeze,  so  frolic- 
some on  the  terrace,  scarcely  stirred  the  leafy  clouds  of 
green  and  the  movements  of  the  tiny  wood  creatures  in  the 
tall  grass  and  underbrush  sounded  loud  in  the  stillness. 


AN  ELOPEMENT  CLEARS  THE  AIR      287 

The  Count  was  silent  and  Belinda  was  glad  to  walk 
on  and  on  through  the  hushed  woodland  world  without 
making  an  effort  to  talk.  She  was  tired  —  tired  of  every- 
thing. If  only  she  need  not  go  back  to  the  people  waiting 
there  on  the  terrace !  If  she  could  turn  her  back  on  all  the 
responsibility  and  worry  and  fret!  They  would  all  be 
happy  without  her.  They  didn't  even  need  her  now. 

Perhaps  it  was  because  she  was  tired.  Perhaps  it  was 
because  she  wasn't  needed.  At  any  rate,  for  some  reason 
or  other  she  felt  veiy  forlorn.  Foolish  tears  gathered  in 
her  eyes,  and  as  she  put  her  hand  up  hastily  to  brush  them 
away,  the  Count  looked  down  at  her  and  caught  a  glimpse 
of  wet  lashes  and  quivering  lips.  A  sudden  light  flamed 
in  his  sullen  face. 

"What  is  it?"  he  asked  swiftly,  stopping  short  in  the 
shadowy  path.  "  What  is  it  that  makes  you  sad  ?  " 

Belinda  dropped  down  upon  a  convenient  fallen  tree  and 
achieved  a  smile;  but  it  was  a  pitiful  little  smile.  She  was 
so  very  tired  of  everything  and  everybody  and  she  wished 
the  man  would  go  away  and  let  her  have  a  comfortable  cry. 

But  De  Brissac  had  no  idea  of  going  away.  He  had 
misread  the  tears,  he  had  misread  the  tremulous  lips;  and 
his  reading  of  them  had  turned  his  carefully  laid  plans 
topsy  turvy  and  fanned  the  hidden  desire  of  his  heart  to 
flame.  If  she  loved  him  after  all!  To  the  devil  with 
prudence  and  reason!  To  the  devil  with  creditors  and 
family,  and  pink-cheeked  heiresses! 


288  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  he  asked  again,  his  hungry  eyes  question- 
ing her  face,  his  voice  hoarse  with  feeling.  "You  are 
unhappy?  Because  it  is  good-bye?  You  care?  My 
God,  you  really  care  ?  " 

She  tried  to  speak,  to  tell  him  that  he  had  misunder- 
stood, but  he  would  not  listen.  Women  always  protested. 
It  was  a  part  of  the  game  —  but  now  he  was  not  playing 
the  game.  At  last  he  was  in  earnest,  reckless  of  conse- 
quences, counting  the  world  well  lost  for  love  that  he  had 
always  held  so  light  a  thing. 

"You  would  not  listen  —  there  in  Touraine,"  he  said; 
"  but  you  must  listen  now.  I  love  you,  I  love  you,  I  love 
you.  I  cannot  live  without  you.  It  was  driving  me  mad 
to  let  you  go  without  a  word  —  and  now  I  will  not  let  you 
go  at  all." 

He  had  dropped  on  his  knees  beside  her  and  the  miser- 
able little  woman  realized,  in  a  bewildered  way,  that  he 
did  not  look  foolish  even  on  his  knees.  She  could  under- 
stand why  American  girls  married  foreigners.  It  was  only 
your  Anglo  Saxon  who  could  not  kneel. 

No;  he  did  not  look  foolish.  He  was  very  handsome 
and  ardent  and  very  much  in  earnest,  and  he  knew  that  she 
was  poor,  and  it  was  good  to  be  loved  when  everybody 
was  in  love  with  somebody  else.  Perhaps  —  perhaps  — 

"  Tell  me  that  you  will  stay  with  me,  that  you  love  me  a 
little,  that  you  will  marry  me.     I'm  a  good-for-nothing  - 
a  beggar  —  but  I  can  be  a  man  for  you,  if  you  love  me.  We 


AN  ELOPEMENT  CLEARS  THE  AIR      289 

will  go  away  and  find  a  new  world,  a  new  life,  together. 
A  new  heaven  and  a  new  earth,  little  love!  Will  you 
come  ?  " 

He  had  not  touched  her,  though  his  eyes  and  voice  were 
a  caress;  but  now  he  caught  her  hands  in  his  and  leaned 
toward  her,  and,  on  the  instant,  a  salt  sea  wind  came  blow- 
ing soft  and  damp  against  her  flushed  cheeks,  the  close- 
circling  green  gave  way  to  wide  stretches  of  azure  and  rose 
and  pearl.  There  was  sad,  sweet  music  in  her  ears  and  a 
strong  hand  held  hers  gently  —  gently,  not  fiercely,  as  the 
hot  hands  held  hers  prisoned  now. 

What  was  the  use  of  playing  at  love?  What  comfort 
could  there  be  in  being  loved  where  one  could  not  love  ? 

She  struggled  suddenly  to  her  feet  and  freed  her  hands. 
Her  face  was  a-quiver  with  pain  and  pity  and  a  secret  some- 
thing that  made  it  wondrous  sweet. 

"I  can't,"  she  said,  half  sobbing.  "I  can't.  I  was 
unhappy  —  but  it  wasn't  that  —  not  what  you  thought. 
I  wish  I  loved  you.  It  should  be  easy  for  a  woman  to  love 
you,  but  I  —  there's  some  one  else.  I'm  not  happy,  but 
we  couldn't  be  happy,  you  and  I.  There  would  always 
be  the  some  one  else." 

And  looking  into  her  eyes,  he  knew  she  meant  it. 

For  a  moment  he  laid  his  arm  against  the  tree  from  which 
she  had  risen  and  hid  his  face  against  it.  Then  he  sprang 
to  his  feet  and  laughed  —  a  reckless,  beaten,  hard  little 
laugh  that  echoed  a  look  in  his  eyes. 


290  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

"The  day  of  miracles  is  past,  Mademoiselle  Carewe. 
I  should  have  known  it  —  and  yet,  I  verily  believe  you 
might  have  had  the  working  of  one.  Perhaps  not.  I 
suppose  every  credulous  fool  has  his  moment  of  feeling 
that  there's  a  saint  astir  in  him  and  that  the  heavens  may 
stoop  to  him.  Isn't  that  Mademoiselle  Lee's  rose-color 
frock  beyond  the  birches  ?  " 

He  was  quite  serene  when  Laura  May  came  down  the 
woodland  path  and  the  young  egoists  were  too  much 
absorbed  in  their  own  affairs  to  notice  that  their  chaperon's 
eyelids  were  pink  and  that  she  had  nothing  to  say,  as  they 
followed  the  winding  way  back  to  the  terrace. 

No  festive  plan  had  been  made  for  the  Carewe  party's 
last  evening  in  Paris.  There  was  packing  to  be  done  and 
the  Cherbourg  train  would  leave  so  early  in  the  morning 
that  the  luggage  must  be  ready  over  night. 

A  farewell  motor  spin  after  the  St.  Germain  luncheon, 
a  last  cup  of  tea  and  gaufrette  at  the  Pre  Catalan,  and 
then  Monsieur  de  Fontanges  and  Count  de  Brissac  made 
their  adieux. 

"I  go  to  spend  the  night  in  tears,"  De  Fontanges  pro- 
claimed with  a  beaming  smile.  "To-morrow  morning 
you  will  behold  the  ravages  of  grief.  You  will  see  me 
but  a  shadow  of  myself,  crushed,  prostrated.  Au  revoir, 
Mesdames." 

After  an  early  dinner  at  the  hotel,  Lord  Bantholme, 
too,  was  banished  and  wandered  reluctantly  away  to  kill 


AN  ELOPEMENT  CLEARS  TtiE  AIR      291 

time,  while  Laura  May  plunged  into  a  surging  sea  of  tis- 
sue paper  and  chiffons. 

"I'll  meet  you  at  the  Cafe.de  la  Paix,  in  an  hour,  old 
man,"  Courtney  promised.  "My  packing  isn't  com- 
plicated." 

Belinda  helped  Laura  May  to  make  a  start  upon  her 
fray,  stopped  into  Amelia's  room  for  a  moment  to  find  that 
young  woman  exceedingly  busy,  and  apparently  much  sub- 
dued by  hard  labour  or  bythe  thought  of  leaving  Paris,  and 
then  faced  her  own  packing  problems  and  forgot  every 
thing  else  in  a  desperate  endeavour  to  bully  the  laws  of  solid 
measure  into  submission  to  the  necessity  which  knows  no 
law. 

An  hour  later,  she  was  sitting  on  the  floor,  helplessly 
gazing  at  a  full  steamer  trunk  and  a  pile  of  unpacked 
clothing,  when  some  one  rapped  at  her  door. 

"Entrez!"  she  called,  scrambling  to  her  feet. 

A  microscopic  French  boy  in  livery  several  sizes  too  large 
for  him,  opened  the  door  and  handed  her  a  note. 

"A  lady  has  left  this  for  Mademoiselle.  It  is  of  impor- 
tance —  to  be  read  at  once,  so  she  has  told  me  to  say,  but 
she  did  not  wait." 

Belinda  turned  the  note  over  and  over  in  her  hands, 
questioning  the  non-committal  envelope  in  the  futile  fash- 
ion common  to  women. 

Who  could  have  written  —  called  ?  Oh,  yes.  The 
message  probably  had  something  to  do  with  Laura  May's 


292  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

frocks.  Something  had  been  forgotten,  delayed.  She 
tore  the  envelope  open,  unfolded  the  paper,  and  looked 
surprised.  No  formal  beginning,  no  signature!  Only 
a  few  lines,  evidently  written  in  great  haste,  by  a  woman's 
hand: 

"Mademoiselle  Bowers  elopes  to-night.  If  she  has 
already  left  the  hotel,  you  will  find  her  at  the  Gare  de 
Lyons.  They  take  the  ten-thirty  train." 

For  a  moment  Belinda  stared  blankly  at  the  words. 
Then  she  read  them  again  slowly. 

Amelia?  An  elopement?  Impossible!  And  even  as 
she  assured  herself  that  it  was  impossible,  she  thought  of 
the  girl's  sentimentality,  her  absurd  love  of  romance.  An 
elopement  would  appeal  to  Amelia,  and  as  for  Courtney  — 
well,  it  would  make  things  sure  for  him.  Whether  he  loved 
the  girl  or  her  money,  an  elopement  would  gain  his  point, 
do  away  with  all  chance  of  family  objections  or  delays. 

She  looked  at  the  little  travelling-clock  on  the  table. 
Ten  o'clock.  There  was  no  time  to  lose!  She  went 
quickly  down  the  corridor  to  Amelia's  room.  No  one 
there!  The  trunks  were  closed  and  locked.  The  girl's 
hat  and  coat  and  dress  suit  case  were  missing. 

Clinging  to  a  last,  faint  hope,  Belinda  opened  Laura 
May's  door.  The  girl  looked  up  at  her,  naiad-like,  across 
an  armful  of  sea-green  silken  froth.  She  was  quite  alone. 

"Getting  on  all  right?"  the  chaperon  asked  by  way  of 
excuse  for  the  intrusion,  but  she  did  not  wait  for  the  answer. 


AN  ELOPEMENT  CLEARS  THE  AIR      293 

Running  back  to  her  own  room  she  threw  on  her  coat 
and  hat,  seized  her  purse,  and  hurried  to  the  elevator. 

If  only  Lord  Bantholme  were  in  the  hotel!  But  he 
wasn't,  and  Mr.  Perkins  was  worse  than  useless,  and  she 
did  need  a  man.  Oh  she  did  need  a  man.  How  she 
despised  the  creatures  —  but  there  were  times  when 
they  could  be  useful. 

The  commissionaire  was  not  at  the  door.  She  was 
glad  of  that.  Perhaps  she  could  bring  Amelia  back  with- 
out any  one  knowing  she  had  been  gone.  But  if  she  was 
too  late  —  what  a  mess  for  her !  What  a  simply  horrid 
mess  for  her!  Mr.  Bowers  would  forgive  Amelia.  He 
would  even  forgive  Courtney.  But  he  would  never 
forgive  her.  He  would  think  it  was  her  fault,  and  eveiy 
one  at  the  school  would  know  —  and  it  would  all  be  in 
the  papers.  Miss  Ryder  would  perish  when  she  saw  the 
school  in  the  papers. 

An  endless  chain  of  miserable  thoughts  ran  through 
her  head  as  she  slipped  out  into  the  night  and  called  a 
cab. 

"  Gare  de  Lyons !    Hurry ! " 

The  cocher  looked  at  her  curiously  as  she  gave  the 
order  but  shrugged  his  shoulders.  What  was  it  to  him 
if  an  American  Miss  with  a  white  face  and  a  hat  crooked 
and  a  frightened  voice,  wanted  to  hurry  to  the  Gare  de 
Lyons,  alone,  at  night  —  provided  always  that  she  had 
the  fare  ? 


294  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

He  whipped  up  his  horse  and  plunged  down  the  narrow 
street,  hurling  execrations  at  all  other  vehicles  obstructing 
his  right  of  way,  and  Belinda  sank  back  into  a  corner  of 
the  cab,  fighting  desperately  with  tears.  This  was  no 
time  for  crying,  but  she  felt  very  small,  very  incompetent 
and  very  far  from  home. 

Jack  Courtney,  strolling  along  the  Boulevard  des 
Italiens,  saw  the  cab  dash  by  and  made  remarks  to  him- 
self about  the  irresponsibility  of  French  cabmen.  Then 
he  added  an  uncomplimentary  comment  upon  the  irre- 
sponsibility of  English  nobleman.  Banly  had  failed  to 
turn  up.  Probably  he  had  gone  back  to  the  Rue  Ste. 
Anne  and  was  gazing  up  at  Laura  May's  window.  He 
was  capable  of  such  idiocy  on  this  last  night. 

Courtney  laughed  at  the  picture  in  his  mind;  and  as 
he  laughed  a  closed  carriage  drew  up  suddenly  at  the 
curb  beside  him  and  a  woman  leaned  out  to  speak  to  him. 
He  recognized  Madame  de  Lorgeville  and  stepped  forward, 
surprised,  incredulous.  She  couldn't  want  him.  There 
must  be  some  mistake,  but  she  called  him  by  name  in  a 
low,  nervous  voice. 

"You  have  not  had  my  note  —  at  the  hotel?"  she 
asked. 

He  noticed  that  her  face  was  very  white  and  that  her 
eyes  seemed  even  larger  and  darker  than  usual. 

"Your  note?"  he  repeated  stupidly. 

"Yes,  I  left  one  for  you.     She  elopes  with  De  Brissac 


AN  ELOPEMENT  CLEARS  THE  AIR      295 

—  the  one  you  love  —  on  the  Lyons  express  —  ten-thirty. 
You  will  not  tell  that  I  -  -  " 

He  did  not  hear  her  last  words,  did  not  answer,  only 
stood  staring  after  her  brougham  as  it  disappeared  down 
the  boulevard  and  repeating  words  over  and  over  to  him- 
self, without  real  understanding  of  their  meaning. 

"Eloping"  --  "Belinda"  —  "De  Brissac"  -  -  "ten- 
thirty." 

An  errant  cabman  drew  up  to  the  curb  and  regarded 
him  with  a  speculative  eye.  He  would  need  a  cab,  that 
young  American  who  had  dined  too  well  and  now  did 
not  know  his  own  mind. 

Evidently  the  young  man  was  of  the  same  opinion. 
He  started,  as  though  wakening  suddenly,  looked  at  his 
watch,  threw  himself  into  the  cab. 

"Gare  de  Lyons!  —  Like  the  devil,"  he  commanded, 
and  the  cocher  obeyed  orders. 

The  guards  were  closing  the  doors  of  the  Lyons  express, 
when  a  young  woman  sprang  from  a  cab,  paid  the  driver 
and  ran  toward  the  train.  As  she  ran,  she  looked  down 
the  platform,  filled  with  hurrying  porters  and  belated 
travellers;  and,  at  the  window  of  a  compartment  before 
which  an  electric  light  flared  brilliantly,  she  caught  a 
glimpse  of  a  girlish  face  that  brought  a  quick  exclamation 
to  her  lips. 

"Going,  mademoiselle?  First  or  second?  No  time 
to  lock  for  friends !  Get  in  here ! " 


296  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

A  busy  guard  bundled  her  into  an  empty  compart- 
ment and  shut  the  door. 

She  sank  down  limply  upon  the  seat.  She  was  on 
the  train  with  them.  She  could  go  to  them  later.  She 
could  take  Amelia  back,  hush  the  affair  up.  No  one 
need  know.  A  cab  horse  reached  the  station  on  a  dead 
run  and  was  pulled  up  on  his  haunches  so  abruptly  that 
he  sat  down  and  slid.  A  young  man  flung  some  coins 
to  the  driver  and  raced  across  the  platform.  A  guard 
pulled  open  the  door  of  Belinda's  compartment,  shoved 
the  late-comer  in,  and  closed  the  door  behind  him.  The 
train  strated.  And  Belinda  Carewe  and  Jack  Courtney 
sat  staring  at  each  other  across  three  feet  of  space. 

"You!" 

It  was  a  chorus  recitation,  jerked  out  by  a  double 
surprise. 

Silence  followed. 

Courtney  found  his  voice  first. 

"Don't  do  it,"  he  pleaded.  "Don't,  I  beg  of  you. 
Wait.  Consult  your  friends." 

Belinda  swept  his  plea  aside. 

"How  could  you  ?"  she  demanded,  scorn  and  reproach 
blazing  in  her  eyes.  "It's  cowardly  of  you,  abominable. 
It  wasn't  necessary.  You  might  have  had  some  manliness, 
some  consideration." 

"But  there  was  no  one  else,"  he  urged.  "I  know  I 
haven't  any  right,  but  I  couldn't  let  you  go  without 


AN  ELOPEMENT  CLEARS  THE  AIR      297 

a  word.  Think  of  your  party!  Think  of  the 
scandal!" 

"You  should  have  thought  of  the  scandal  before." 

He  looked  bewildered. 

"  But  no  one  knows  I've  come  —  anyway,  I  can't  add 
to  the  mix-up." 

Her  eyes  echoed  his  bewilderment. 

"They'll  all  know  soon  enough,"  she  said  miserably. 

"Don't  do  it,  little  woman.     Don't." 

"I  must.     I'm  responsible.     I  can't  allow  it." 

"But  he's  a  blackguard.  Yes;  I  know  you'll  hate 
me  for  it  and  you  won't  believe  it,  but  he  is." 

She  looked  at  him  with  dilating  eyes.  Was  he  losing 
his  mind  ?  Who  was  a  blackguard  ? 

"I  must  take  her  back,"  she  insisted. 

"  I'll  cover  it  up  someway.     No  one  will  know." 

He  dropped  her  hands,  alarm  on  his  face.  She  was 
incoherent.  He  must  spare  her. 

"Where  is  He?"  he  asked  sternly.  He  would  know 
how  to  deal  with  a  man. 

"Why  aren't  you  with  Her?"  demanded  Belinda. 

The  two  questions  came  out  simultaneously  and  hung 
echoing  in  the  air  while  the  man  and  the  girl  looked  at 
each  other  in  blank  amazement. 

"Who?" 

It  was  another  recitation  in  chorus. 

Courtney  rubbed  his  eyes  and  spoke  very  carefully,  very 


298  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

slowly,  as  though  listening  to  his  own  words  and  testing 
his  own  sanity. 

"You  are  overwrought  and  excited,  Miss  Carewe.  I 
will  find  Count  de  Brissac  and  say  what  I  have  to  say  to 
him." 

"Count  de  Brissac?  What  has  Count  de  Brissac  to 
do  with  it  ?  Take  me  to  Amelia." 

"Amelia?" 

"  Count  de  Brissac  ?"  she  repeated. 

"Amelia?"  he  murmured. 

Suddenly  a  great  light  broke  in  upon  him. 

"Holy  Moses!"  he  said  weakly,  falling  back  upon  his 
seat. 

"H-o-l-y  M-o-s-e-s!" 

Belinda  looked  at  him  with  wrath  and  condemnation 
in  her  glance. 

"Are  you  quite  crazy  ? "  she  asked. 

He  nodded. 

"lam  — lam." 

"You've  given  every  proof  of  it.  I  am  going  to  Amelia, 
at  once."  She  rose  with  an  imposing  dignity,  though 
her  lips  twitched  nervously;  but  he  caught  at  her  hand 
and  held  her. 

"Wait  a  minute,"  he  begged.  "Amelia's  all  right. 
De  Brissac's  with  her,  you  know." 

Belinda's  knees  gave  way  under  her  and  she  sat  down 
with  indecorous  haste. 


AN  ELOPEMENT  CLEARS  THE  AIR      299 

"De  Brissac!"  her  lips  framed,  but  her  voice  refused 
to  come. 

Courtney  nodded,  a  vast  cheerfulness  suffusing  his 
countenance. 

"  Well,  naturally.    They're  eloping  together,  you  know." 

And  then  he  did  an  amazing  thing.  He  turned  slowly 
upside  down  and  stood  on  his  head,  and  the  car  turned 
with  him  and  the  lights  went  round  in  whizzing  circles. 
She  leaned  back  against  the  cushions  and  shut  her  eyes. 

When  she  opened  them  again,  she  was  lying  on  the 
seat  with  an  anxious  young  man  kneeling  beside  her  and 
mopping  her  face  with  a  wet  wad  of  handkerchief.  It 
seemed  Anglo  Saxons  also  could  kneel. 

"Don't  do  it  again,"  he  begged.  "Please  don't. 
Everything's  all  right.  They  can't  get  off  until  the  train 
stops.  I'll  handle  him.  Don't  worry.  Don't  faint 
again." 

She  sat  up,  pushing  the  wet  hair  off  her  forehead; 
and,  looking  at  his  distracted  face,  she  began  to  laugh; 
and,  having  begun,  she  couldn't  stop. 

"It  was  all  so  preposterous — so  hopelessly,  inexpressi- 
bly imbecile." 

She  laughed  and  laughed,  and  the  tears  trickled  down 
her  nose;  and,  though  she  knew  she  was  behaving  like  a 
hysterical  fool,  she  couldn't,  for  the  life  of  her,  help  it. 

Courtney  soothed,  encouraged,  entreated.  At  last  he 
lost  patience  and  shook  her. 


300  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

"Thank  you,"  she  said,  meekly,  drying  her  eyes. 
"That  was  what  I  needed." 

He  eyed  her  suspiciously  for  a  moment  as  though 
expecting  her  to  break  out  in  a  fresh  place;  but  when 
she  remained  comparatively  calm,  he  rose  and  dusted 
off  the  knees  of  his  trousers  with  his  handkerchief. 

"Well,  for  an  eventful  evening "  he  said,  wiping 

his  perspiring  brow  with  the  same  handkerchief  and 
leaving  streaks  of  grime  across  its  surface. 

"The  next  time,  I'll  elope  myself." 

"So  will  I,"  vowed  Belinda. 

"We'll  do  it  together." 

She  did  not  encourage  the  theory. 

"I  refuse  to  consider  eloping  on  any  other  condition," 
he  insisted  firmly.  "By  the  way,  though,"  he  added* 
"why,  in  the  name  of  the  seven  sacred  crocodiles,  did 
you  think  I  was  eloping  with  Amelia  ?" 

"I  heard  she  had  eloped,  and  you  were  engaged  to 
her  and  so  — 

"I  was  w-h-a-t?"  he  asked,  clasping  his  befuddled 
head  in  both  hands  and  looking  helplessly  at  the  young 
woman  before  him. 

"You  were  engaged  to  her." 

"You're  delirious!  These  are  ravings.  I  never  even 
dreamed  of  being  engaged  to  that  reincarnated  white 
kitten.  I  never  dreamed  of  being  engaged  to  any  one 
except  the  girl  I  loved.  I  met  her  in  an  orchard,  and  I 


AN  ELOPEMENT  CLEARS  THE  AIR      301 

followed  her  to  Europe,  and  I  endured  much  at  her  hands, 
and  I  saw  her  falling  in  love  with  a  good-looking  French 
scamp  — 

"She  didn't,"  objected  Belinda. 

"Well,  she  flirted  with  him  scandalously.  I'm  going 
to  introduce  a  bill  for  having  flirting  with  other  men 
counted  among  the  cardinal  sins.  It  belongs  there." 

"  But  when  there's  no  Man,  there  can't  be  other  men," 
Belinda  reasoned  logically. 

"And  there  was  no  Man  ?"  he  asked.  He  was  on  his 
knees  again  now.  The  dusting  had  been  quite  wasted- 
"No  man  for  whom  she  cared  even  a  little  ?" 

"  Your  forehead  is  dreadfully  dirty." 

"Belinda,  tell  me.  Haven't  you  cared  at  all?  Look 
at  me,  little  girl."  She  lifted  her  eyes  to  his  for  a  fraction 
of  a  second. 

"I've  de-test-ed  you!"  her  lips  said. 

"Darling!"  His  arms  went  around  her.  Her  head 
dropped  on  his  shoulder. 

"  You're  quite  sure  you  aren't  eloping  with  Amelia  ?  ' 
she  asked,  after  a  long  silence. 

"If  you're  positive  you  aren't  eloping  with  De  Brissac  ?" 

Being  foolish  young  things,  they  laughed,  but  Belinda 
was  quickly  grave  again. 

"I  must  find  Amelia.  Oh,  I  do  hope  that  she'll  be 
reasonable  and  that  the  Count  won't 

"I'll    attend    to    the    Count,"    Courtney    interrupted. 


302  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

She  looked  at  him  gratefully.  It  was  splendid  for  a 
man  to  be  so  big  and  so  sure  of  his  ability  to  attend  to 
eloping  Counts. 

They  went  along  the  little  corridor  and  into  another 
carriage.  There  a  guard  met  them  and  Courtney  stopped 
for  parley. 

"There  is  a  young  American  lady  on  the  train,"  he 
said  in  a  careless  tone.  "Very  young,  pretty,  blonde 
hair,  pink  cheeks,  dimples,  plump." 

A  gleam  of  intelligence  for  an  instant  lightened  the 
official  face. 

"With  a  French  gentleman  who  is  tall  and   dark." 

The  gleam  disappeared  in  blankness. 

"I  do  not  remember  such  a  couple,  M'sieu." 

Courtney  put  a  twenty-franc  piece  in  the  man's  hand. 

"To  encourage  the  memory,"  he  said  gravely. 

"Ah,  M'sieu,  it  appears  to  me  that  I  have  seen  the 
persons  of  whom  you  inquire.  They  have  a  compart- 
ment reserved  in  the  next  carriage,  but  it  is  forbidden  to 
disturb  them.  Impossible  to  admit  M'sieu." 

"How  impossible  ?"  asked  Courtney. 

"The  tall  dark  M'sieu  has  also  given  me  twenty  francs. 

"This  is  your  lucky  day,  my  friend.  Twenty  and 
twenty,  and  now  twenty  more.  It  mounts,  does  it  not  ?" 

The  guard  grinned  contentedly. 

"There  are  days  like  that,"  he  said,  with  a  shrug  of 
the  shoulders.  "Come,  M'sieu." 


AN  ELOPEMENT  CLEARS  THE  AIR      303 

He  led  the  way,  Courtney  and  Belinda  following,  and 
stopped  before  a  closed  door. 

"Le  voila,  M'sieu." 

"How  long  before  we  stop  ?" 

"Almost  immediately,  M'sieu." 

He  opened  the  door  and  Belinda  stepped  through  it. 

A  little  scream  greeted  her,  and  a  muttered  oath. 

At  the  sound  of  the  oath,  Courtney  followed  her  and 
shut  the  door  in  the  face  of  the  deeply  interested  guard. 

For  an  instant,  no  one  spoke.  Count  de  Brissac  had 
sprung  to  his  feet  and  faced  Belinda,  a  dull  red  flushing 
his  face,  a  sullen  shame  in  his  eyes;  but  she  paid  not  the 
smallest  attention  to  him.  She  was  looking  past  him  to 
where  Amelia  sat  huddled  in  a  corner,  her  babyish  face 
swollen  with  crying,  her  expression  wavering  between 
fright  and  joy. 

Doubt  and  remorse  had  evidently  come  quickly  for 
the  little  sentimentalist,  and  she  was  in  no  rapturous, 
romantic  mood. 

"Poor  dear,"  cooed  Belinda,  as  she  went  to  the  girl, 
brushing  past  the  Count,  as  though,  for  her,  he  did  not 
exist. 

"Poor  dear!" 

She  held  out  her  arms  and  the  girl  crept  into  them, 
sobbing. 

"I  didn't  realize.  I  didn't  know  —  he  said  it  would 
all  come  out  right." 


304  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

"There,  child.  Don't  cry.  It  has  all  come  out  right. 
We  will  take  you  home.  Nobody  knows." 

"I  think,  Count  de  Brissac,"  said  Courtney  politely, 
oh,  most  politely,  as  he  opened  the  door,  "that  there  are 
vacant  seats  in  the  next  compartment." 

The  Count  whirled  upon  him  swiftly,  an  ugly  scowl 
on  his  handsome  face,  his  right  hand  darting  toward  his 
pocket. 

The  American  caught  the  wrist  in  transit. 

"Steady,  you  fool,"  he  said  quietly,  as  he  propelled 
the  angry  man  through  the  door.  "We'll  have  no  open 
scandal  here,  but  if  you  are  really  looking  for  trouble, 
later  on  I'll  take  great  pleasure  in  spoiling  your  classic 
countenance  by  giving  you  a  black  eye." 

The  train  was  stopping  at  a  station  as  he  went  back 
to  Belinda  and  Amelia.  He  gathered  up  the  fair  eloper's 
suit  case  and  umbrella,  assisted  the  two  girls  to  leave  the 
carriage,  deposited  them  in  the  waiting  room  of  the  station, 
and  effaced  himself  without  a  word.  The  situation,  for 
the  moment,  demanded  a  woman's  tact. 

An  hour  later,  the  trio  boarded  a  train  for  Paris.  Amelia 
was  not  crying  now.  In  fact,  she  looked  distinctly  relieved, 
almost  cheerful  in  the  rebound. 

"It  isn't  at  all  the  way  they  write  it  in  novels,"  she  said, 
snuggling  up  to  Belinda,  with  a  contented  sigh.  "I'll 
never  elope  again.  It's  horrid,  lonesome  business." 

A  sleepy  night  porter  let  Courtney  and  the  two  girls 


The  steamship  docked  at  New  York  on  the  morning 
of  September  15th 


AN  ELOPEMENT  CLEARS  THE  AIR      305 

into  the  hotel,  without  a  flicker  of  interest.  One  kept 
such  hours  in  Paris. 

When  Belinda  came  from  Amelia's  room,  she  found 
Courtney  waiting  in  the  hall. 

"It's  all  right,"  she  whispered.  "She's  asleep  already, 
poor  silly  child." 

"Everything's  all  right,"  the  man  murmured  fervently. 
"God  bless  the  little  idiot  for  eloping." 

The  chaperon  shook  her  head. 

"It  was  awful  —  simply  awful.  You  can't  imagine 
how  I  felt.  I  knew  it  must  be  all  my  fault  —  and  Mar- 
garet Barnes's  fault.  She  made  me  come.  I'm  not  fit 
to  chaperon  girls.  I'm  not  fit  to  take  care  of  a  party. 
I " 

"Need  a  husband  to  take  care  of  you,"  finished  Court- 
ney with  brazen  boldness. 

She  looked  at  him  with  crimsoning  cheeks  and  flashing 
eyes;  but  as  he  waited  for  the  storm  to  break,  suddenly 
the  flash  melted  to  a  glow  and  was  hidden  behind  drooping 
eyelids. 

"Do  you  know,"  she  said  softly,  wonderingly,  "I 
believe  I  do." 

When  the  Augusta  Victoria  docked  at  New  York  on 
the  morning  of  September  15th  Margaret  Barnes  watched 
an  active  and  competent  young  man  pilot  six  women  and 
one  elderly  man  down  the  gang-plank,  hunt  up  their 


306  THE  PERSONAL  CONDUCT  OF  BELINDA 

luggage,  see  it  examined  and  handed  over  to  an  express- 
man, and  then  join  the  group  whose  storm  centre  was  a 
demure  young  woman  in  a  blue  travelling  frock  and  a 
Paris  hat. 

"Everything  is  ready  now,"  he  said  briskly. 

"Miss  Lee,  you  are  going  with  Miss  Bowers  and  her 
father,  aren't  you  ?  I  have  a  carriage  for  you  and  your 
sister,  Mr.  Perkins,  The  driver  is  paid.  Aunt  Florilla, 
Mrs.  Bagby  will  go  up  to  the  hotel  with  you.  I'll  join 
you  there  in  an  hour." 

One  by  one,  the  members  of  the  Carewe  party  fell  upon 
the  neck  of  the  little  woman  in  blue  and  assured  her  they 
had  had  a  beautiful  time.  Mr.  Perkins  contented  him- 
self with  wringing  her  hand,  but  satisfaction  radiated 
from  him,  and  Mrs.  Bagby  who  followed  him  looked  after 
him  with  honest  pride. 

"I've  promised  him  to  think  about  it,"  she  confided 
to  Belinda.  "It'd  be  a  pity  to  let  him  backslide." 

When  the  last  of  the  good-byes  had  been  said,  the 
dominant  Young  Man  turned  to  the  girl  in  blue. 

"Come,  Belinda,"  he  said,  picking  up  her  hand  luggage 
and  leading  the  way  to  a  waiting  cab,  "I'll  see  you  and  Miss 
Barnes  off  and  then  I'll  run  over  to  the  office  for  an 
hour." 

He  put  the  two  women  into  the  cab,  gave  an  order  to 
the  driver,  raised  his  hat,  and  stood  smiling  as  Belinda 
leaned  forward  to  wave  him  a  good-bye. 


AN  ELOPEMENT  CLEARS  THE  AIR      307 

She  watched  him  until  the  trucks  shut  him  from  view. 
Then  she  dropped  back  into  her  seat  and  met  Miss  Barnes's 
amazed  and  questioning  eyes. 

"I  know  it,  Margaret,"  she  admitted  blushingly.  "It 
isn't  at  all  according  to  your  schedule,  but  we  fairly 
chewed  that  schedule  to  pieces.  You  see,  it  didn't  pro- 
vide for  any  of  the  really  important  emergencies.  You 
hadn't  given  me  any  rules  for  assorted  engagements  and 
we  needed  those  more  than  anything  else ! " 

"Belinda,  you  don't  mean ?" 

Belinda  nodded  guiltily. 

"Yes,  I  do.  Oh,  Margaret,  Margaret!  My  personal 
conducting  has  been  bad  enough,  but  my  personal  conduct 
certainly  has  been  a  scandal." 

THE  END 


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